


Redthorn's Vengeance

by SilverWinterr



Series: Stories from Falling Leaves [1]
Category: Original Work, Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Battle, Canon-Typical Violence, Conspiracy, Corruption, Dark Forest (Warriors), Delusions, Descent into Madness, Gen, Gore, Hurt No Comfort, Moral Ambiguity, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), StarClan (Warriors), WindClan (Warriors), for a while, idk how to tag lmao, no beta we die like men, then he straight up starts murdering people so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2020-11-15 02:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 40,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWinterr/pseuds/SilverWinterr
Summary: Redthorn was a warrior of Windclan, said to be one of the greatest fighters the clans have ever seen. He was honorable, strong, loyal, and thrived on the battlefield, whether chasing off foxes or defending his clan and territory. But as things begin to change in Windclan, a darkness begins to brew in his heart. He holds a thirst to better his clan, whatever the cost, and strike back at those that would see to weaken it. Even if they're one of his own.





	1. Chapter 1

“Then by the powers of Starclan I give you your warrior name! Redpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Redthorn. Starclan honors your strength and intelligence and we welcome you as a full member of Windclan!”

Ivystar reached forward and pressed her muzzle against Redthorn’s head and he leaned forward to lick her shoulder before she backed away. She watched him with pride as he puffed boldly, the clan calling his new name behind him. A powerful emotion rippled through his body. He’d been waiting for this, training for this, working so hard to make it to this point. And here he was! Beside him he could feel Qualishade shivering with joy and he glanced over at his sister, watching as she trembled with excitement. His smile softened as he watched her. He was proud of her, probably more proud then he was of himself.

Before he could say anything to her, though, Ivystar was speaking again. “These new warriors will now sit their vigil in silence while the rest of the clan sleeps.” There was a murmuring through the clan, a few teasing voices and a couple of sympathetic ones - it was going to be a cold leaf-fall night, but Redthorn didn’t care. He’d do whatever he could to do what was best for his clan.

As the clan began to break up, pressing past the two new warriors, meowing congratulations, Redthorn and Quailshade took their places at the entrance of the clan. As they sat there on the cold ground, occasionally casting glances barely containing their excitement, Redthorn let his mind drift.

It drifted to all the training, all the fighting and hunting he’d done to get to this point. He was excited to be a warrior for the clan, yes, but now, as Specklefeather had told him time and time again, now that he was no longer an apprentice, he could really show off his incredible talents. He knew he was a good fighter - one of the best in the clan, most likely, and he was eager to show it off. Perhaps there’d finally be a fight between Thunderclan and Windclan. Ever since the prey had begun to go short, the relationship between the two usually friendly clans had soured significantly. He didn’t particularly want to see a fight between the two...but, if it came to it, he sure hoped he was chosen.

And as the night passed on, the two grew somber and serious, the weight of their new responsibilities growing heavy on their shoulders. Quailshade was no longer looking at her brother, instead staring out at the moor with an even expression, as if deeply considering the world before her. And, perhaps, she was. 

I’ll protect her, Redthorn declared to himself. Although, with her clever fierceness, perhaps she didn’t really need much protecting. He almost laughed to himself when he remembered how clingy she’d been as a kit. How helpless and terrified. Now she was a warrior, a talented hunter, and confident in everything she did. Nothing in the world made him happier than to see how much she’d grown.

It seemed to take forever, or perhaps it was only a few minutes, but the world eventually began to grow light again. Redthorn shifted, stretching out the cold in his limbs, and glanced towards the horizon. The sun was just beginning to peak out over the hills and a glance to the side showed that Quailshade was watching it too. For a while, that’s what they did - watched the sun begin to rise together before the padding of pawsteps jerked them back to reality, back to the Windclan camp.

A pale brown tabby was padding over to them. “You’re vigil is now complete.” Adderclaw gave the two warriors a gentle smile. “Go on, off to the warrior’s den. You two deserve some sleep. We’ve already prepared moss for you.”

The two stood up immediately, sore, aching limbs protesting the sudden movement. “Thank you,” Quailshade purred, her voice cracking a bit. They moved off to the den, where some of the warriors were beginning to awaken, and found the nests, lined with soft moss and bracken and immediately settled down.

Redthorn wanted to stay up for a little while longer and talk, but now that he was inside of a den, curled in a warm nest, after staying up the entire night, sleep tugged at his eyes until he gave in to the soft abyss of dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

“Windclan! Attack!” Ivystar’s battle cry was loud and full of fury. Redthorn didn’t hesitate from where he was crouched, leaping forward with his claws extended, snarling with fury as he fell upon the Thunderclan invaders, standing proudly at the border between the two territories. There was a shape in front of him, but he didn’t even look at who it was. They smelled of Thunderclan, of an enemy, and he didn’t hesitate as he fell in to attack.

The Thunderclan warrior yowled with surprise as Redthorn immediately overwhelmed them with a flurry of attacks. They tried their best to fight back, wiggling out from under him a few times, batting at him with their claws, but the Windclan warrior was too strong, too fast. Within a minute, he had the warrior pinned, digging into the soft skin of their belly, making them squeal with pain. They wriggled again and this time he let them escape, not bothering to watch as they fled back into their own territory.

A gray pelt went barreling past and he acted on instinct, reaching out his claws and tripping the warrior, delivering a sharp nip to their flank as they flew past. They stumbled and fell forward onto the ground, but before they could rise, the ferocious warrior was on top of them, raking his claws down their back. Again, a scream and the Thunderclan warrior was running off into the trees.

Panting heavily, he whipped around, throwing himself back into the fray. It was utter chaos, the clashing of multi-colored pelts a barrage of stimulation. Redthorn was swiping at cats left and right, his claws never touching the cats that smelled of moor and wind, but always falling right on their marks against the cats that smelled of the dark, musty forest. 

It didn’t seem to take very long for a cry to ring out through the clearing. “Thunderclan, retreat!” At first, Redthorn was furious. That was it?! No, he wanted to keep fighting! He wanted to show off all of his skills, go beyond his abilities, give Thunderclan everything he had, but no, they were retreating. After the initial, adrenaline-inspired thought passed his mind, satisfaction and pride took its place.

The Windclan warriors gave chase for a short while, until all of the Thunderclan warriors were across the border. They stood at the edge and yowled out their victory. Thunderclan’s leader, Thornstar, stopped and turned around, his lips curling with fury. “We’ll take this land back, Windclan.”

Ivystar stepped forward until her paws touched the border, looking equally as furious, but her eyes were still shining from the haze of battle. Her silver-striped hide was coated with blood, but it didn’t look like much of it was coming from her. “And we’ll fight for it again, and we will win. Over and over until you forest scum learn your lesson and never set foot on our territory again!”

The Windclan warriors yowled their approval as Thornstar said nothing else, simply spat on the ground and disappeared into the forest.

Redthorn watched it happen, his flanks still heaving, mind still whirling at a mile a minute until he felt something gentle touch his side. He flinched and whipped around, surprised to see Ivystar standing before him, looking a little more calm then she had a moment ago. “Redthorn,” she purred. “That was incredible. We won the battle today, thanks to you. You should be very proud.”

Redthorn gaped at her as murmurs rippled through the gathered warriors.

“Yeah, that was insane!”

“I’ve never seen anyone fight like that before.”

“Redthorn, you’ve been blessed by Starclan!”

Overwhelmed, Redthorn looked between all the warriors, taking in all of their awe-stricken faces, and an incredibly powerful emotion stirred in his chest. It was stronger then any pride he’d ever felt before and, as he looked on at the warriors, all talking about the fight, happy and confident despite their numerous injuries, he knew, right then, that he was truly something special. I have been blessed by Starclan!

The warriors returned to the camp, then, beaten and bloodied but chatting animatedly about the fight. Only Ivystar seemed to be dejected. As they got closer and closer to the camp, she’d slowed, her tail dragging in the dirt, tripping on her own paws. Adderclaw walked close to her, murmuring softly in her ear about something Redthorn couldn’t catch. He figured it would be fine, though. He was too caught up talking with the other warriors about his fighting. They questioned him with glittering eyes about his fighting style, how he’d done this or that and Redthorn answered each question as much as he could, lapping up the attention like parched earth on a rainy day.

As soon as they reached the camp, his attention was diverted by a gray shadow racing up to the returning warriors, eyes searching frantically until they fell on her brother. He didn’t have much of a warning before Quailshade descended on him, lapping at his blood-soaked fur with frantic licks. “Oh, god, you look terrible! You need to go see Poppyfur right now!”

Redthorn was, for a moment, taken off guard, but then he found himself being pushed towards the medicine cat’s den, where a ginger cat was already inspecting various warriors for injuries.

As soon as she spotted Redthorn, she turned to the white tortoiseshell that was patching up Gorsefoot and murmured something in her ear. The apprentice looked over and paled at the sight of Redthorn, drenched in blood.

Within a few moments, both Quailshade and Honeypaw were pressing at his fur with water-soaked moss. He hissed as they pressed too hard against a few of the wounds on his body, and grimaced at the feeling of his fur soaking wet, but, eventually, all the blood was cleared and the medicine cat apprentice was pressing cobwebs against his wounds.

“You don’t have a lot of injuries,” she murmured. “Where’d all that blood come from?”

Gorsefoot, standing nearby, turned his head and grinned. “Thunderclan warriors! You should have seen Redthorn in the fight - he must have taken down four or five warriors at least! Not to mention all the times he helped others’ with their own fights.”

Quailshade looked at her brother with wide eyes. “Really? But that was your first battle as a warrior!”

Redthorn shrugged, overwhelmed with pride once again. “Yeah, so? I’m a good fighter.”

“Indeed.” The call came from the Tallrock where Ivystar was sitting. She was covered with cobwebs and crushed herbs and she was hunched over with pain, but her eyes were bright as she watched her warrior. “The battle would have been lost without Redthorn.” She cleared her throat and yowled out the gathering words.

Most of the clan was already gathered in the center of the camp and they crowded around the tallrock, eyes turned upwards with interest.

Ivystar struggled to her feet and a flash of worry ran through Redthorn. Had her injuries really been that bad? But she steadied herself and stood tall above her clan. “I wanted to call this meeting to announce that the territory on the border with Thunderclan has been saved, thanks to the efforts of our brave warriors.”

Cheers and yowls of victory rang through the Windclan camp and Ivystar let it go for a little bit before raising her tail for silence. “And I would like to give special recognition to one of our newest warriors, who fought with the strength of an entire clan on his own. Redthorn,” she turned to the warrior, “we thank you and honor you for your strength and skill today. You are a great asset to our clan.”

Redthorn stood taller, puffing out his chest with pride as Quailshade purred happily beside him and the clan’s cheers rose around. “Redthorn! Redthorn!” That’s right - he was the greatest fighter in the whole clan; no, the greatest fighter in all of the clans! He turned his eyes towards the Tallrock, to where Ivystar gazed down at him proudly and, for a moment, wondered how good it felt to stand up there.


	3. Chapter 3

The warm greenleaf sun beat down on Redthorn’s back, heating up his skin and fur more than it already was. He was panting from exertion, but he wasn’t nearly as worn out as the gray-ish brown apprentice that was struggling to keep up next to him. He’d had Snakepaw for a couple of moons now and already he was turning out to be a strong, thoughtful warrior. Of course, with Redthorn’s talent for fighting as a teacher, he excelled in the skill of combat.

He looked down at his apprentice fondly. “That was an excellent session today. You deserve the first pick of the fresh-kill pile.” Snakepaw met his gaze with excitement. “Thanks, Redthorn!” He sped up his walking until he was practically racing towards the entrance to the camp, disappearing through the bracken. Redthorn took it slower, chuckling to himself before he pushed his way through as well.

Much of the camp was empty, save for a few of the elders laying in the sun outside of their den and Ivystar who was chatting with Adderclaw next to the Tallrock. Redthorn watched as Snakepaw enthusiastically hopped over to the fresh-kill before turning away towards the nursery.

He stuck his head in, the warm scent of milk and kits overwhelming his senses. Rabbitpelt was dozing lazily while her three kits tumbled over each other, squeaking softly, watched by the careful eye of Quailshade from her own corner of the den.

When Redthorn’s shadow fell over her, she looked up, expression lighting up at the sight of her brother. “Hey, Redthorn. How was training with Snakepaw?”

Redthorn smiled warmly back and stepped in, crouching next to her. “It was great. He’s going to make a fine warrior one of these days. His sister too, she’s been progressing nicely.”

The faintest ghost of jealousy flashed through Quailshade’s eyes and Redthorn didn’t need to understand why. She’d only been a warrior for a few seasons when she announced she was going to have kits with Berrytail. It had always been her dream as an apprentice, to be a mother, but Redthorn couldn’t help but think that she’d rushed it a bit. And it seemed that she was beginning to rethink her choice as well - seeing her brother out with an apprentice of his own was hurting her. 

She shook it off quickly, though, and her break in composure was replaced by a mischievous smirk. “Oh, yes, yes, I’m sure, Redthorn.”

The tomcat looked at her strangely. “What is it?”

Quailshade flicked her tail playfully. “You know what. I know Icepaw’s been making eyes at you since she was made an apprentice.”

Redthorn had absolutely no idea how to respond to that at all and scoffed, feeling heat rising beneath his fur. “What are you talking about? She’s an apprentice. I’m a warrior.”

Quailshade rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Berrytail was a warrior when I was an apprentice too. It’s not like it’s a rare thing, hare-brain.”

He rolled his eyes. This conversation was ridiculous. “I don’t have time to be thinking about mating. I’ve got an apprentice and there’s been traces of a fox on our territory. I need to be ready if one decides to attack the camp.”

His sister huffed, flicking her tail against his head, but there was still a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “Oh, you, you should really try lightening up sometime. Not everything is about fighting.”

Redthorn rose to his feet, shaking out the bits of moss from his pelt, sending Rabbitpelt’s kits squealing and racing after them. “Yeah, says who?”

“I do!” She purred teasingly, hooking a bit of moss in her claw and throwing it right onto his nose. He flicked it off right back at her before backing out of the nursery. “I’ll bring you something later. What do you want?”

“Some peace and quiet!”

“Got it.”

He padded out of the nursery with a smile on his face. The camp was getting a little more crowded now as warriors returned from patrols and apprentices from training sessions. He noticed Ivystar still standing by the Tallrock with Adderclaw, but Specklefeather was with them too now. When she caught sight of Redthorn, she gestured with her tail to come closer.

Mystified, he trotted up, bowing his head with respect. “Ivystar, what can I do for you?”

Adderclaw and Specklefeather glanced towards each other as Ivystar began to speak. “Specklefeather found a den of foxes in the middle of our territory on patrol today. We think there are three or four of them.”

Redthorn looked at her strangely. “Okay…”

“You’re the best fighter in the clan, Redthorn.” Adderclaw rolled his eyes, but Ivystar didn’t seem to notice. “We can’t have fox cubs growing up on our land. I want you to take a patrol out there and get rid of them.”

At first, Redthorn was confused. By all rights, she should have just told Adderclaw to do this - he was, after all, the deputy. Or Specklefeather. Or any other senior warrior. And then the first words she’d said dawned on him.

Perhaps she thought he was expendable. No, that wasn’t right. He was the best fighter in the clan, after all, just like she said. Maybe she had some hidden meaning to this assignment? No, Ivystar wasn’t like that. She was straightforward and honest. Then that meant one thing - she really just trusted Redthorn with this mission completely.

He gaped at her for a second, but then collected himself. This was his first real assignment as a warrior, after all! “I won’t let you down.”

Ivystar nodded. “Good. I’ll let you choose which warriors you’d like to take with you.”

Redthorn dipped his head as she turned away. His eyes instantly met with Specklefeather who gave him a wide, knowing grin. His former mentor stepped forward, bumping his nose against his shoulder. “Who else do you want? We should take at least five or six warriors.”

Redthorn glanced towards Adderclaw, more out of instinct than anything, but as soon as their eyes met, the tabby’s expression soured. “I’ll go,” he said in a short huff, but Redthorn had the feeling that he really didn’t want to. Too bad, he thought with amusement. I’m the one leading the patrol.

He glanced back towards the clan. “How about...Badgerpelt. And Maplefall. Oh, and Goosebreeze. That should be good enough.”

Specklefeather nodded and padded off to collect the warriors he’d mentioned. As Redthorn watched him disappear into the warrior’s den, he felt a pair of eyes staring into his fur. He turned and met Adderclaw’s eyes. The deputy was staring at him with distaste. Annoyance prickled at Redthorn’s pelt. “What?”

He scoffed. “I just don’t think Ivystar should be relying on you so much. You’re a young warrior and too bloodthirsty for your own good. I can’t help but fear she’s setting this mission up to fail by putting someone as reckless as you at the front.”

Redthorn stared at him, absolutely dumbstruck. What the fuck? He’d known Adderclaw to be grumpy at the worst of times, but he’d never shown this much open dislike towards him before. But he realized...it wasn’t unexpected. The deputy had been shooting him glares and dirty looks ever since the fight at the Thunderclan border. Obviously, something about him had royally pissed Adderclaw off, but Redthorn couldn’t be worried about that now.

His expression hardened. “It doesn’t matter what you think. Ivystar chose me for this job. And the leader’s word is law.”

Adderclaw glared back and rose to his feet. He didn’t say a word to the young warrior as he padded off towards the entrance, where Badgerpelt was already waiting.

Redthorn waited for a moment before following, seething with anger and wounded pride. He’d show Adderclaw. He’d prove to him that he was a better warrior than anyone else in the clan. That he was worthy of Ivystar’s praise and trust.

Yeah, he’d see how wrong he was soon enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Redthorn led the warriors across the moor, Specklefeather ahead, leading them towards where he’d found the fox den. The young warrior felt light on his paws, out of nervousness, perhaps, or maybe excitement? It had been a while since he’d had a good fight. Not since the border skirmish, probably. He had faced a fox once, as an apprentice, but Specklefeather had him running back to warn the camp instead of fighting head on. Now it was his chance to show those mange-pelts what he could do.

More importantly, he was going to show Adderclaw what he was worth.

Redthorn didn’t like the deputy. To be honest, he never really had, but his dislike had heightened when he’d become a warrior. To be fair, he was tactical. He had a good head on his shoulders. He had a way of reading into cats and situations that few others could. And he and Ivystar were old friends. She’d been his mentor when she was still deputy and now he served as hers.

But the cat had no skills for fighting, nor did he enjoy it in the way that Redthorn did. He shook his head as he thought about the deputy’s distaste for violence. It was a natural thing, built into their DNA. They had to fight to survive and if he couldn’t see that...he’d make a very poor leader indeed.

That wasn’t important now. He was beginning to pick up a heavy scent and Specklefeather was slowing down, glancing back at him. “The den is just up here,” he whispered.

Redthorn nodded and stopped moving. The patrol followed suit, looking at him for direction. He flicked his tail for Goosebreeze, the smallest of the warriors - lithe, agile, and excellent at sneaking. “Get as close as you can without being seen. Tell me how many are there right now.”

The warrior nodded and turned, disappearing into the brush. The other cats crouched down in the tall grass, waiting with bated breath for the warrior to return.

A few minutes later, the warrior returned, panting softly. “Four. Two adults, two cubs. One of the adults looks injured.”

“What?” Adderclaw hissed. “Did some featherbrain try to attack it alone?”

“I don’t think so,” Goosebreeze whispered back. “There was something caught around its leg.”

Redthorn narrowed his eyes. “Well, whatever it is, it’ll help. It won’t be able to fight as well crippled.” The other cats nodded and Redthorn raised his head, trying to think, formulating a plan in his head. “Right. We’ll go for a surprise attack. We’ll all burst out at once and go for the adults. If we can get rid of them, the cubs will be defenseless. They’ll run away easier.”

All of the warriors nodded, save for Adderclaw, who just narrowed his eyes. Redthorn couldn’t be bothered by his attitude at this point, however, and ignored him, turning back towards where the foxes were waiting. “Adderclaw, Goosebreeze, Badgerpelt. You take the one on the right. Specklefeather, Maplefall and I will take the left. Badgerpelt and Maplefall - once we fight the adults for a minute, break off and go after the cubs.”

The warriors nodded and followed suit as Redthron began to creep forward until they were at the edge of the grass. He waited for a moment, eyeing the two adult foxes, before flicking his tail.

As one, the six warriors burst from the brush, yowling battle cries. The foxes jerked up and barked as cats fell upon them, claws unsheathed and tearing at their thick fur. As soon as his claws pricked the fox’s skin, for Redthorn the world blew away.

He was clawing and tearing up fur and skin. There was screeching and howling and snarling in his ears, but he didn’t care. Moving automatically, leaping and dodging and slicing whenever he could. He felt teeth prick his tail and something sharp raked across his back, but he just kicked back against it, feeling his back claws connect against fox hide.

Someone was yelling. Someone was screaming his name. It was distant, as if it were someone across the moor and not just a few tail lengths away. Redthorn didn’t respond, his face twisted in a snarl as he dug deeper into the fox’s flesh, tearing out everything he could. It could have been a minute, it could have been an hour. He wouldn’t know the distance. All he focused on was the adrenaline, the fight and time passed him by. He felt the body beneath him jerk in his grip as it tried to run, but he clawed his way forward, digging in deeper. He forgot about letting it escape. No, it was going to die. He was going to kill this mange-pelt.

“Redthorn!”

There was a series of yips and cries behind him as he threw himself forward, finding a good spot to finally dig his teeth in deep. The fox beneath him gave a blood curdling screech and finally collapsed as its spine was severed. Redthorn at last loosened his grip and stepped back, glaring down at the canine beneath him. It was smaller than he expected.

Smaller…

No wait...it couldn’t be…

“REDTHORN!”

The warrior whipped around and found himself face to face with Specklefeather. The warrior had a torn ear and there was blood dripping down his shoulder. The brush was spattered with blood and gore and, in the corner of Redthorn’s eye, there was a tuft of tortoiseshell pelt, but that wasn’t important right now. Because the foxes were gone. And so were the rest of the warriors.

“What happened?” he growled.

It was then that he realized how terrified the other warrior looked. In the many moons that Redthorn had known Specklefeather, trained with him, fought with him, never before had he seen such terror in his eyes. His heart dropped to his stomach but before he could say anything else, Specklefeather gasped.

“The c-camp…”

_No._

Redthorn shot off, heart thudding in his chest. The haze of battle had evaporated in an instant, replaced by the same terror that had consumed Specklefeather. No, no this was all wrong. This couldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening. It was just a couple of foxes and their cubs. The cubs should have run. The adults should have left…

The high pitched sounds of screeching reached his ears before he even made it to the camp. Fear burned in his limbs and threw him forward faster. Faster! Quailshade was there…

He just made it to the entrance of the camp when three red shapes burst from the brush. Right on the foxes tails were a number of warriors, snarling and clawing as they ran, yipping all the way out. Immediately, Redthorn jumped in to give chase, but it wasn’t necessary. They were already running for the edge of the territory. The warriors began to slow as the foxes retreated farther and farther away.

“Adderclaw! Harestep! Make sure they cross the border!”

Redthorn flinched when he realized that it was Ivystar calling out those commands. He looked over and the leader and was filled with dread at the sight. She was covered with blood, which seemed to seep from numerous wounds across her sides and chest. Her eyes were blazing with fury and her lips turned in a snarl. She didn’t even seem to react to the wounds covering her entire body.

For once, the warrior didn’t know what to say.

It seemed, though, that he didn’t need to say anything. Ivystar whirled around, her eyes falling on the red warrior, bright with rage. His head dipped with shame, waiting for her to reprimand his actions, to punish him for messing up and putting the clan in danger.

But she didn’t say anything.

There was a sharp cry from behind him. “Ivystar!” Out of instinct, he jerked his head up, just in time to see his leader stumble forward and collapse on the ground, her breathing quick and shallow. Horror pulsed through him as a warrior shoved past and knelt at Ivystar’s side. He didn’t know who it was. They were calling for the medicine cat. Cats were gathering to carry Ivystar back to camp. It was all passing by Redthorn, but he just stared at the blood pooling beneath Ivystar’s body. Her silver fur was stained with deep, sickening red. It had all happened so fast that he didn’t know what to make of it. Nothing but one thing.

He did this.

This was his fault. 

Something soft was pressing against him, but he didn’t look away, his eyes fixed on Ivystar’s body as the warriors carried her away. His gaze followed their movement and he couldn’t hear Quailshade’s gentle murmuring through the pounding in his head. Only when she pushed against him firmly did he allow her to lead him away.

When he returned to camp, many of the warriors were nursing wounds. Honeypaw was frantically dodging between warriors, patching up the worst of the injuries. Goosebreeze had taken to helping her, despite bleeding heavily from his flank. Redthorn assumed Poppyfur was with Ivystar right now and the thought caused another sickening lurch in his belly.

His eyes roamed, trying to find all of the other warriors that had come with him to fight the foxes. Badgerpelt was laying on the ground, eyes glazed and breathing heavily, cobwebs stretched thickly over a nasty wound on his shoulder. Specklefeather had returned just behind him, but his injuries weren’t as severe. Adderclaw wasn’t back yet, probably still chasing the foxes to the border. Maplefall was...she was…

“Redthorn!”

Quailshade’s voice jerked him back to reality. He turned to her and the words spilled out of his jaws. “Where’s Maplefall?”

His sister’s eyes widened and she looked around frantically. Nobody else seemed to have caught on yet. In a flash, he remembered the bit of fur he’d seen peeking out of the grass. _No...that couldn’t have been…_

He turned and shot off towards the camp entrance, but froze when Adderclaw and Harestep pushed through the ferns, carrying a small, familiar body between them. _No…_

They carried Maplefall’s limp body to the center of camp and set it down gently before the Tallrock. Groans rippled through the clan, accented by a piercing cry. It was Specklefeather, Maplefall’s brother, rushing forward to push his nose into his sister’s pelt, sorrow etched in every movement, every feature of his expression.

The world stopped. The sun was shining above them, but it might as well have been the middle of leaf-bare, for how cold Redthorn was. He was shivering, quaking out of control, horror, dread, sorrow, hatred burning and tearing through every vein, every nerve. This was his fault. Maplefall was dead because of him. Ivystar was terribly wounded because of him. Half the clan was injured because of _him…_

Quailshade was pressed against his side and that was all that was anchoring him to reality. His breathing was quick and frantic and he stumbled forward, collapsing at Maplefall’s side. He pushed his nose against her head. “I’m so sorry…” he whispered, hoarsely.

He could feel Adderclaw’s glare on the back of his scruff, but he didn’t care. Whatever the deputy had in store for him, whatever insults or reprimands or punishments he had...Redthorn deserved them. He deserved them all. He had failed his clan, he’d let this happen. No, he’d made this happen.

Distantly, he heard Quailshade’s whispering voice. “What happened?”

He listened passively as Adderclaw spoke in a low voice. “Redthorn’s plan failed as soon as we leapt in. He thought the cubs would be too scared to fight but they attacked right back. We were overwhelmed immediately. I tried to sound a retreat but he wouldn’t stop. He just kept fighting. Even when a cub tried to run, he didn’t let it go like we were supposed to. Maplefall saved him from one of the adults, but it killed her immediately. After that...we had to run. And they chased us right back here. We tried to divert their attention somewhere else, but I think they picked up the scent of cat and kept going. They were pretty riled up. Maybe they were angry that Redthorn had managed to kill one of the cubs and were thirsty for revenge.”

Redthorn closed his eyes and pressed his face deeper into Maplefall’s fur. He felt sick. It really had been his fault in the end.

He zoned out the rest of Quailshade and Adderclaw’s conversation and instead focused on trying to control his breathing. Specklefeather was next to him and all he wanted to do was press his flank against his, a source of comfort perhaps, but he had no right.

He had no right to even be mourning her.

He was on the verge of leaping to his feet and fleeing into the warrior’s den, but that was when Quailshade’s heavy warmth appeared next to him, pressing her fluffy fur into his side. He leaned into it, composure finally breaking as he released a small sob.

They sat there for a long time as the rest of the clan gathered around to say their farewells to Maplefall. Some simply leaned over and murmured a word in her ear, some gave her pelt a few licks, others sat themselves next to Specklefeather to mourn with him.

The sun was setting when Quailshade shifted next to him. “Redthorn. It’s Poppyfur.”

His head immediately rose and snapped towards where the medicine cat was stepping out of her den. His heart dropped to his stomach at the sorrowful expression on her face.

Adderclaw raced forward, stopping in front of her. “How is Ivystar? Poppyfur, how is she?”

Redthorn looked away, squeezing his eyes shut. The image of Popppyfur’s expression, twisted with anguish and loss had burned into his mind. He’d never forget it.

_My fault._


	5. Chapter 5

Redthorn felt hollow as he gazed up at the moon hanging in the sky. It was almost full now, a Gathering was right around the corner. It lit up the hill, turning the long grass silver under its light, but the tom didn’t pay notice to the serene beauty of the night. He was sitting alone on the moor, the taste of blood still present on his tongue, crushed under the weight of his guilt.

He closed his eyes and tried to forget what Poppyfur’s face looked like when she announced to the clan that Ivystar had lost her final life. Or the shock of seeing her cold, motionless body laid beside Maplefall. Or how Adderclaw had stared down at him with undisguised hatred and to feel that hatred reflected in himself. Because it was an undeniable fact that it had been his fault that Ivystar had died.

If he had consulted a senior warrior on how to approach the foxes...if he hadn’t come up with such a stupid strategy or assumed so much...if he had _listened_ when they had cried his name while he mercilessly tore that fox cub apart…

Perhaps, then, none of this would have happened.

His eyes slitted and he rested his head on his paws, too ashamed to look up at the stars. He wondered if they were watching him, glaring and frowning at him. He wondered if he would get sent to the Dark Forest for this. His eyes squeezed shut and he curled in tighter. What was he thinking? Of course he would.

“Redthorn.”

He flinched, so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t even heard Quailshade approaching. He didn’t look up, electing to push his head deeper into his own fur. “Go away.”

His sister sighed and moved, but not to go back to camp. She stepped over him and set herself down against his back, her thick, fluffy fur enveloping his spine. He couldn’t help but let out a small sigh at the wave of love and comfort that fell over him a moment later, but it was so muted by his guilt that all of a sudden it was almost like thorns against his back.

But he didn’t make any move to get away. Just allowed himself to stay there, soaking in Quailshade’s warmth, despite how much it hurt. Even though he didn’t deserve it.

“Redthorn, it wasn’t your fault.”

Of all the emotions that a simple sentence like that could create, however expected it was, immediate, burning rage was not one he expected. In an instant, the tender moment was broken and Redthorn thrust himself to his feet, turning on his sister with a snarl.

“Of course it was!” He cried. “Who else’s fault was it? Ivystar put me in charge and I fucked it up! I came up with a stupid strategy because I wanted Adderclaw to shove it! I was reckless and I drove those foxes right to camp and I didn’t do anything about it because I couldn’t stop fighting and I just wanted to kill those flea-pelts and Maplefall is dead too because I was reckless and arrogant and _stupid_...”

He trailed off, only then realizing that there were tears cascading down his face, his voice cracking and breaking as he ranted and raved. He’s been carrying this around all day now, well into the night, and it was finally bursting free. Quailshade was staring up at him with an expression of concern and sympathy and he _hated it_. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t some kit or apprentice that needed consoling. “Stop that,” he snarled, turning his head away to rub the tears off his face.

“Stop what?” Quailshade responded, gently.

“Stop looking at me like that! I don’t deserve your sympathy!” he hissed back.

“It’s not like you meant for this to happen.”

“But it happened! And it was _my fault_!”

“You had no idea the foxes wouldn’t run from you. You had no idea they’d go straight back to camp! You-”

“I should have consulted an older warriors! One that knew what to do about foxes!”

“Redthorn, you have to-”

“I should have let Adderclaw take control!”

“Redthorn-”

“I don’t deserve to be a warrior anymore!”

“Great Starclan, would you shut up for a second!”

Quailshade’s sudden outcry had the stream of words falling from Redthorn’s mouth stop in an instant. He blinked with surprised and turned his head towards her. Her muzzle was twisted in a frown and her eyes were narrowed with annoyance as she regarded her brother. “Stop freaking out and listen to me already!”

“But-”

“Redthorn!”

The tom bowed his head and sat himself down. Quailshade huffed with frustration and another wave of shame fell over him.

“Listen, Redthorn. If you want to insist it was your fault, then fine. You made a mistake. Yeah, that mistake led to some pretty heavy consequences, but it was still just a mistake. You didn’t know that was going to happen. You didn’t know any of it. Perhaps Ivystar was wrong having you lead a patrol against an enemy you didn’t know about. Perhaps Adderclaw should have been nicer to you. And perhaps you should have tried to keep a level head. But it’s a waste of time trying to think about what could have happened. All that matters is what will happen now.”

Redthorn looked up at her and he was surprised to see how fierce her expression was. Eyes blazing, boring into his and he found he couldn’t look away as she continued. “You can grieve and mourn - that’s normal, but you can’t continue beating yourself up about this. It’s not what Maplefall would want and it’s certainly not what Ivystar would want either. What you need to do is step up. Own up to your mistake and do whatever you can to protect the clan in the future. No single cat matters - not you, not me, not Ivystar, not Adderclaw. Only the clan. You’re the best fighter we have. You’re a strong warrior. You have the potential to make Windclan stronger than it ever has before! And the first thing you have to do is stop wallowing in your own misery and get to work! Feel pain, but don’t let it control you! Be the Redthorn I know and love!”

Redthorn was shocked into silence, but he felt his anger cracking a bit. She was right, every word. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t sit out here and break down while the clan grieved and suffered back at camp. Adderclaw was at the Moonpool now and when he returned...well, it would be the start of a new era. And Redthorn realized what Quailshade was saying to him. _Meet it head on. Make Windclan the strongest it can be to make up for what you’ve done._

His resolve hardened in his chest and he stood up taller, not minding the last few tears that fell from his eyes. “Th-thanks, sis,” he rasped. “I’m...I’m sorry. I will. I’ll be better now.”

He hesitated but then pressed forward, pushing his muzzle into the fluffy fur around her neck. She purred and returned the gentle touch, licking him softly over the ear.

He held onto this moment. It would take time for the rest of that hatred to die away. It would take days for the pain of losing Ivystar and Maplefall to his mistakes fade away, if it ever truly would. But Quailshade had already helped him start the healing. Even if the clan’s faith in him had broken, even if Starclan would cast him out when it was his time to go, at least there was one cat that he cared about that still believed in him.


	6. Chapter 6

In the moons following Adderstar’s rise to leadership, things around Windclan began to change. Redthorn felt it especially at the first gathering he attended with the new leader. He’d been banned from the first (which was, he had to admit, understandable) but he was thoroughly shocked at how _friendly_ Adderstar was acting among the other leaders. It left a sour taste in his mouth as he watched his leader talking to their enemies like they were all old friends.

And it seemed he wasn’t alone - the clan was restless, murmuring amongst themselves as Adderstar chatted animatedly with Thornstar, despite the hot blood between the two clans at the time. But that didn’t stop Redthorn from keeping his word to Quailshade. He fought and hunted and worked tirelessly for the clan, trying to be the best warrior he could be. By then, many of the clan had forgiven him for his mistake, even going so far as to express sympathy for how he must feel, having been the reason the Ivystar had died. All except Adderstar who still glared at him with barely disguised hatred.

To be honest, it hurt. Redthorn had been dreaming of one day standing on the Tallrock himself. Of becoming the leader so Windclan’s protection and safety could actually be in his paws. So he could make Windclan strong from an _actual_ position of power, but with Adderstar up there? He’d have a better chance being leader of Thunderclan.

At least Specklefeather had been made deputy, a choice that had pleasantly surprised the young warrior. His old mentor was level-headed and trustworthy, far less biased than the new leader. Where Adderstar had once hesitated to put Redthorn in charge of patrols or giving him important tasks, Specklefeather gave him responsibility in mounds. It felt good to be useful again.

The frustration with Adderstar, however, culminated at the border with Thunderclan. Redthorn had taken a patrol and found a group of warriors on their land, staking a claim to the territory that they’d tried to seize when Ivystar had been leader. They’d sent for backup and had leaped into battle against them, barely holding themselves against the onslaught of warriors.

When Adderstar had arrived, he’d called for a swift end to the fighting. He glanced at his warriors, scathing eyes holding on Redthorn for a moment before he called out to the Thunderclan leader. “I apologize for the hasty actions of my warriors. I have no intention of fighting you over this claim. If Thunderclan is struggling with prey this leaf-fall, then we’ll give you this land. Windclan is doing well enough without it.”

Redthorn’s eyes widened with horror and the other warriors cried out in protest. “What?! You can’t just do that!”

Adderstar turned a gaze colder than ice to his warrior. “Actually, I can. The leader’s word is law.”

Redthorn blanched, but he shut his mouth, trembling with rage. Thornstar blinked with surprise and then dipped his head. “Thank you, Adderstar. Thunderclan will remember your generosity.”

As Adderstar led his warriors home, Redthorn stumbled the whole way, stiff and shaking with anger. _How could he do this?!_

***

In the leaf-bare of that year, Quailshade gave birth. Redthorn would never forget that day, pacing outside the nursery as she screeched with pain. He should be in there with her. He should be helping her. He was her brother! But Poppyfur had insisted he waited outside. Only Berrytail was in there with her, whispering encouraging words into his mate’s ears, licking her fur to keep her relaxed as she howled through the day.

At last, after what seemed like moons, the screams died away. At first, Redthorn feared that the worst had happened, but then Poppyfur emerged from the nursery, panting from exhaustion, but eyes warm and filled with joy. “You can go see them now. Quailshade’s okay, just tired.”

Without waiting for another word, Redthorn pushed past her and burst into the nursery. Quailshade was spread out on her nest, eyes half closed but filled with so much love and happiness that it almost brought Redthorn to tears. She was gazing at the two kits squirming at her belly. One looked like her mate, Berrytail, who was sitting behind her grooming her scruff - a ginger tabby, with slightly darker fur then her father. The other was more like Quailshade, with fluffy, dark gray fur still stuck together in wet tufts.

When Redthorn appeared at the entrance, she purred happily. “Hey, Redthorn.” Her voice cracked with pain that broke his heart to listen to, but he reminded himself that it was over now. She was okay. She would be okay.

She leaned forward and nosed the gray kit. “I named this one Darkkit. And this one,” she touched the ginger one gently, “I named her Crimsonkit. After you, Redthorn.”

Knowing that his sister had named one of her kits after him made his heart soar. He purred loudly and nuzzled her cheek. “I love them. Congratulations, Quailshade.”

He wanted to stay here with her forever, watch over her and protect her from all harm, but movement at the entrance to the nursery broke the moment. Redthorn glanced back and saw a familiar silver pelt peering into the nursery.

“Are you okay, Quailshade?” Icefeather meowed tentatively. Redthorn felt his pelt heat up as Quailshade flicked her tail teasingly against his leg. He looked away from the she-cat with embarrassment and focused intensely on the two kits suckling at Quailshade’s belly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. The kitting’s over now.”

“Oh, really! That’s great!” A second voice yowled out from behind Icefeather and her brother, Snaketail, barged his way past. Redthorn’s former apprentice pushed his way into the nursery, looking down at the two little kits. “Awww, they’re so cute!”

Icefeather followed in a little slower, glancing at Redthorn every so often, and taking a seat next to him to look at the kits. “Wow, they’re wonderful! You must be very proud,” she meowed towards Quailshade with a strange sparkle in her eyes.

Quailshade smiled but Redthorn couldn’t help but notice a certain smugness behind her expression as she glanced up at him. “Yes, I am. I couldn’t be more proud.”

Icefeather nodded, glanced at Redthorn once more, before leaning down to touch one of the kits. Berrytail watched all of this with a careful gaze but when Quailshade sighed and rested her head back in the nest, he straightened up. “Okay, Quailshade needs to rest now. You can all visit the kits tomorrow.

Redthorn didn’t get up to leave, but felt Berrytail’s gaze on his head as the other two got up to leave. “You too, Redthorn.”

The tom looked up, about to protest, but once he realized that Quailshade was already sleeping and Berrytail had himself curled around her protectively, he relaxed. She was in good paws. He nodded wordlessly and followed Snaketail and Icefeather out of the den.

Snaketail immediately bounded off to the fresh-kill pile, probably to share the good news with the rest of the warriors, while Icefeather remained at Redthorn’s side.

For a moment, there was silence between the two before she glanced over, a little hesitantly. “Kits are...really amazing, aren’t they?”

Redthorn nodded, trying not to look at her. He felt profoundly uncomfortable under her gaze, but she didn’t seem to notice and continued talking. “I’ve always w-wanted kits myself, you know! Ever since I was younger!”

“O-oh, did you?” Redthorn glanced over, voice cracking under his nerves. Icefeather was giving him an intense, careful look. He looked away, unsure of how to proceed. He knew what she was implying, but he wasn’t sure if he felt the same way. *Does it matter, though? It’s not like I would be the one giving birth to the kits. Besides, the more kits Windclan has, the more warriors we’ll have in the future. And I’ll have children to raise and be proud of. Maybe I should…* His nerves intensified but he pushed them down. Icefeather was still staring at him with the same longing gaze and he tried to let his heart open up a little bit. It’s fine. He’d be making her happy.

He was silent for a moment before taking a deep breath, facing Icefeather with his best attempt at a warmer expression. “That’s great. I’ve always wanted kits too.”

A few moons later, Icefeather gave birth.


	7. Chapter 7

He was returning from patrol, jaws laden with prey, the warm greenleaf sun heating his fur. As he set his kills down on the pile along with the other warriors, he felt two heavy bundles of fur slam into his side. He’d been expecting them as soon as they’d walked into camp and he forced his warrior instincts to pipe down as his kits attacked him. He let out a small cry as he allowed himself to be toppled over, quickly smothered by gray and ginger fur.

The two kits squealed with mirth and swiped at Redthorn with sheathed claws. For a moment, Redthorn squirmed, allowing the kits to have their fun before he carefully heaved them off and got to his feet, shaking the dirt out of his fur. “Well you two are excited today!”

The two kits jumped to their paws eyes shining happily. The dark ginger one jumped forward and nipped at Redthorn’s paws, but he swatted him away. The kit stepped back, giggling, while the other stayed put, quivering with excitement. “We’re going to be made apprentices today!”

Redthorn’s face widened with a large smile as he gazed fondly at the two kits. “That’s great! You must be so excited!”

The ginger kit squealed and jumped up, batting at his father again. “Redthorn, I want _you_ to mentor me!”

The other turned and leaped towards her brother, the two descending into squeals. “No, he’s gonna be _my_ mentor!”

Redthorn sat back and watched the kits playfight for a minute before an angry yowl echoed across the camp. “Eaglekit! Heatherkit! Stop that at once!”

The two kits immediately broke apart, panting, their ears flattening back as the silver form of Icefeather came storming across the camp. Redthorn smirked. _Uh-oh. Busted._

They shrank back as their furious mother towered over them, glaring at them with exhausted rage. “I thought I told you to behave yourselves! Look at what you’ve done with your pelts! I’m going to have to give you another bath before your ceremony today!”

Heatherkit lifted her head and whined loudly. “Awww, I hate getting baths!”

“Well, you should have thought about that before you got yourselves all dirty again. Now, let’s get back to the nursery before Adderstar thinks you’re too foolish to become apprentices.”

That shut them up quickly and they picked themselves off the ground, padding back to the nursery with their tails dragging on the ground. Icefeather made to follow them, pausing momentarily to flash Redthorn an apologetic glance. “Sorry about them. I’ll make sure they calm down before the ceremony.”

Redthorn nodded dismissively. “It’s fine. Make sure that they do.”

He turned away, missing the hurt that passed across Icefeather’s face, as Specklefeather approached and began speaking with him about the hunting patrol. He was a little distracted, however, glancing around the camp for other familiar faces. Eventually, he spotted them, stepping into camp looking thoroughly worn up but pleased with themselves.

Darkpaw and Crimsonpaw had been apprenticed for a while now and Redthorn wouldn’t be surprised if they became warriors soon. He watched them as they approached the fresh-kill pile, talking animatedly with each other. Their mentors, Fernlight and Rabbitpelt, lingered back, speaking with each other, most likely about their apprentices’ training. Quailshade wasn’t back yet, probably still on the sunhigh patrol.

Redthorn took a deep breath. With all of the good things going on in his life, it was almost easy to forget that Windclan was crumbling.

He was dreading tonight’s Gathering.

Once he’d finished his conversation with Specklefeather, he picked himself out a rabbit from the fresh-kill pile, one of the ones he’d caught, and made to sit in his favorite spot. More of the clan was returning now, probably gathering in preparation for the apprentice’s ceremony. He spotted Quailshade’s dark pelt making his way over to him and raised his tail in greeting. He quickly picked out a plump rabbit for the two of them to share and they met in their favorite spot on the edge of camp.

“Hey there, Redthorn,” Quailshade murmured, touching her nose to his cheek. He purred and pressed back for a moment before they sat down and began digging into the rabbit.

For a moment, they were quiet as they ate before Redthorn spoke up. “So, how was patrol today?”

Quailshade paused, a sour expression crossing her face. Redthorn stopped mid-chew and looked up at her. “What?”

She sighed and shook her head. “It’s just the new borders. We were patrolling over by Riverclan today, you know, that patch of land that Adderstar just gave to them...we found them trying to catch rabbits on our side. We chase them back, but they said that they’ll get the territory soon enough - that Adderstar was just going to give it to them eventually. I...I don’t mean to oppose what our leader is doing but...the other clans just don’t respect us anymore.”

Redthorn felt rage boiling in his chest at the thought. There was a sudden itch at the base of his claws. He hadn’t had a good fight in a long time - not since the fox attack that had taken Ivystar’s life, actually, and that had been seasons ago! He shook his head. “I know what you mean. It’s infuriating, not being able to defend our rightful borders. We’re not short on food, sure, but how much longer can our territory keep us fed if Adderstar keeps making it smaller?

Quailshade nodded and leaned down to take another bite. “I’m afraid of what he’s going to say at the Gathering tonight. I’ve seen him and Specklefeather arguing lately.”

That was never good. Unlike Adderstar, Specklefeather was level-headed and reasonable and seeing so many unreasonable demands be put on his clan was stressing him out a lot. He and the leader argued constantly, and Redthorn was pretty sure his former mentor never won. He wished he could stand by him and fight back, but Adderstar’s obvious hatred of him had never died away. He gritted his teeth and buried his frustration by taking another bite from the rabbit.

Quailshade watched him for a moment before taking a last bite herself before cleaning off her whiskers. “Either way, you and Icefeather must be proud. Your kits are getting mentors today.”

Redthorn nodded, not meeting her gaze. It was true, he _was_ proud of them, but in a way a warrior would be proud of any kits getting their apprentice names, not like that of a father. He let them play with him sure - he didn’t hate kits and both of them had really grown on him. But he’d never particularly felt any familial bonds. Not like how he felt about Quailshade at least.

He drifted off into this thought as he and Quailshade began sharing tongues before a call came out from the middle of camp. Redthorn stopped midway through grooming a path of tangled fur on her shoulders, looking towards the Tallrock where Adderstar was standing. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Tallrock for a clan meeting!”

Redthorn stood and padded out to join the rest of the clan as they gathered together, murmuring amongst each other. Quailshade bounded off to join Berrytail, meowing a soft greeting to Crimsonpaw as she passed her. Where Redthorn sat down, he felt a shifting and looked over to see Icefeather beaming up at him. The two kits were next to her, fur groomed to perfection, both standing with their chests puffed out impressively, excitement gleaming in their eyes.

A sense of discomfort stole over him and he tensed, forcing himself not to move away and give his mate a warm smile. They didn’t have time to exchange words, however, as Adderstar was speaking a moment later. “As you all know, we have a pair of apprentices to name today.”

He cleared his throat and flicked his tail. “Eaglekit. Heatherkit. Step forward.”

Eaglekit leaped forward with excitement and Heatherkit followed a little more hesitant. She glanced back at her father, but at his nod of encouragement, she managed to turn herself back around and finish walking up to the leader. He jumped down from the rock and stood in front of them.

“From this day on, until he’s earned his warrior name, this cat shall be known as Eaglepaw. Goosebreeze, you are a warrior of excellent speed and skill. Please pass all you know to Eaglepaw.”

The scraggly gray warrior padded out and the two touched noses, Eaglepaw visibly vibrating as he did so. Adderstar turned his attention to Heatherkit. “From this day on, until she’s earned her warrior name, this cat shall be known as Heatherpaw. Snaketail, you are ready for your first apprentice. Please pass all you know to Heatherpaw.”

Snaketail bounded forward excitedly and Redthorn felt a swelling of pride for his former apprentice. He was honored that Adderstar had picked him to be Heatherpaw’s mentor, although he had a feeling that it was Specklefeather who had convinced him.

The clan began to break up then, many of the warriors cheering out the new apprentices’ names. Redthorn added his voice, along with Icefeather, before beginning to make his way over to his children. _Okay. Calm down. It’s time to be a father._

He put on his best smile as he approached. Both apprentices were having words with their mentors but once they spotted their parents walking up, they quickly ended their conversations and bounded over.

“Look at me, mom!” Eaglepaw cried out, happily. “I’m an apprentice now! I’ll be a warrior soon!”

Icefeather purred. “And what a great warrior you’ll be!”

“Hey, Redthorn,” Heatherpaw meowed. The tom flicked his eyes over to her. “I can’t believe I got Snaketail as a mentor! Did you know?”

Redthorn chuckled and shook his head. “No I didn’t.”

“That basically means I’m learning from you, doesn’t it? Since you taught him everything?”

“Well, yeah, if you want to think of it that way.”

“Oh, cool!” Heatherpaw leaped into the air with excitement. “He told me that we’re both going to the Gathering tonight! I can’t wait to see all the other clans!”

Redthorn’s good mood immediately soured and he turned around to where Adderstar had been. He and Specklefeather were talking and, by the looks of it, neither of them were happy. He was proud of his children, he was really trying to be as proud of a father as he could, but his heart was still set on the clan. Making the clan stronger. 

And Adderstar was only pulling it down.


	8. Chapter 8

Redthorn and Quailshade, apparently, were not the only Windclan cats that approached the Gathering with dread. He caught sight of Badgerpelt glancing around at the other clans nervously and Specklefeather’s every movement was stiff and mechanical. The latter was a very bad sign and it put him on edge even more for the storm that was sure to be unleashed.

They crossed over the log bridge and began to mingle with the other clans. The only good thing that had seemed to come out of Adderstar’s rule had been the peaceful Gatherings. None of the other clans really had any reason to dislike Windclan at the moment, since they’d been growing fat off of the land Adderstar had been _so generously_ giving to them.

Although, in a way, this was also a negative. Redthorn hated the friendly chatter directed towards him. It felt like the other clans were mocking them when they should be in _fear_ of them, in awe, respectful. It inspired so much fury in him that sometimes he couldn’t handle it. He’d keep walking, shaking with rage, snapping at whoever got close.

As Windclan stepped into the clearing, the other four clans were already gathered. Immediately, he stepped away from Quailshade as a queen from Skyclan descended on her for friendly chatter and chose for himself a spot at the edge of the crowd. It seemed like a few other Windclan warriors had the same idea, as he spotted Snaketail edging closer to him and away from the Thunderclan warrior trying to spur him into conversation. Badgerpelt sat himself next to Redthorn while Fernlight settled down just in front.

Badgerpelt glanced up at the tom and sighed. “I hope Adderstar behaves himself tonight.”

Redthorn shook his head, a feeling of disgust welling in his chest. “I do too. But don’t get your hopes up. Riverclan’s been eyeing the borders again.”

Badgerpelt sighed again and looked away as a yowl rang across the clearing. The leaders were jumping onto the tree, now, placing themselves on their branches. With a hiss, Redthorn noticed that Adderstar had chosen the lowest of the branches this time. Surely he had more respect for himself and for his clan?!

“Welcome, cats of all clans,” Hazelstar, Shadowclan’s leader, called out. “It is time to begin the Gathering. Shadowclan will speak first.” He paused and eyed the other leaders, as if waiting for them to protest. However, none of them did so, watching him expectantly.

If only Adderstar could be like the proud Shadowclan leader. He was, in Redthorn’s opinion, a model leader. Fierce in battle, protective of his clan, but never needlessly seeking out violence. He was a little too soft sometimes for Redthorn’s tastes, but he held his clan in high enough regard for the other clans to have a good enough measure of fear and respect for Shadowclan under his rule.

Unlike Windclan. Ever since Ivystar’s death, they’d become nothing but a laughing stock.

Hazelstar said little of importance, only announcing a new warrior and thanking Starclan for a bountiful greenleaf. Petalstar of Skyclan stepped up next. She said little more then Hazelstar, motioning for Thornstar to speak next.

The golden Thunderclan leader, perched on the topmost branch, cleared his throat. “Thunderclan is thriving! The prey is running fast, but not fast enough to escape out claws. Thanks to the territory that Adderstar has given us, we are stronger than ever!” His face twisted in a smug grin that sent Redthorn’s blood boiling hotter.

But his anger wasn’t directed towards Thornstar. After all, if he was in his position, he would probably have said the same thing too. Instead, his hatred of Adderstar intensified, as the leader seemed to miss the meaning underneath and nodded. Redthorn didn’t hear the rest of Thunderclan’s report, his heartbeat was so loud in his ears that he could hear nothing but his own righteous indignation.

Adderstar rose to speak and Redthorn’s heart dropped but Warmstar quickly held up her tail. “Hold on. If it is alright, I would like Riverclan to speak next.”

“Oh, shit,” Badgerpelt whispered beside him.

Adderstar looked up at her for a moment before nodding and sitting himself back down. Warmstar nodded and stood up taller. “Riverclan is doing well this greenleaf. We’ve had two queens give birth to healthy litters of kits. The prey is bountiful and the fish even more so. However…” She paused glancing down at Adderstar. “Riverclan is growing rapidly. This leaf-bare, it is very possible that our territory may not support us any longer. Therefore, we ask that Windclan give us a bit of their land, up until just past Twolegplace. That should provide us with enough land to feed us when the rivers freeze over.”

Yowls of protest rose up from Windclan and Badgerpelt leapt to his feet. “What?! We’ve already given you land! Work with what you have!”

He glanced back at Redthorn, as if waiting for his response, but the tom was staring at Adderstar with an intense, burning expression. _Don’t do it,_ he hissed silently. _If you do, then Windclan is doomed._ It wasn’t a particularly large stretch of territory, but it would announce to all the clans - they could take whatever they wanted from Windclan.

Adderstar looked up at Warmstar with surprise and stood slowly. He held up his tail for silence, but it still took a few seconds for all the voices to settle down.

“Warmstar,” Adderstar started, the confidence in his voice sending a jolt down Redthorn’s back. “I would be more than happy to give you that territory. You can have that land as well as the land up until the base of the moors to feed your clan through leaf-bare, as long as it is back to us once the rivers thaw.”

Warmstar’s eyes went wide as saucers, but she couldn’t get a single word out before Redthorn stood up and screeched. “NO WAY! That’s too far, Adderstar! We need that land! You can’t give it to Riverclan!” This was worse, so much worse than he thought it would be. Giving them the territory they’d asked for was one thing, but that stretch of land was almost a quarter of what Windclan had left!

Adderstar’s head whipped around, fixing Redthorn with a scathing glare. “Be quiet, Redthorn.”

“No!” Redthorn was done. He was done staying silent and he was done taking this shit! “I don’t accept it! If I smell a single Riverclan warrior past where the border is marked now, I’ll treat them like an intruder! That’s _our_ land and you can’t give it up!”

Adderstar’s lip curled and his tail lashed behind him as he fixed his warrior with an expression filled with so much hatred that it actually made Redthorn pause. “Last leaf-bare,” Adderstar growled, “Windclan had no trouble getting through the season. We had more prey than we needed. It’s our duty as one of the five clans to help the others survive and be strong. Riverclan may have this territory, as well as the strip of land I’m offering for the season.”

Redthorn snarled and stepped forward, his eyes fixed on his leader. The rest of the clans were silent, as if watching with bated breath, and those in his way parted silently, but in that moment they didn’t matter. All of the anger and frustration that Redthorn had been harboring since the first scuffle with Thunderclan was finally bursting free. Every reason to ever hate Adderstar was bursting out of his chest. He was weak. He was unworthy as a leader. He wasn’t going to suck up to him anymore. He needed to save his clan before Adderstar destroyed it completely.

“How do you know leaf-bare will be easy again? You could be sending our clan to our deaths! If you don’t care about that, then you don’t deserve to call yourself our leader!”

Adderstar’s eyes flashed and he snapped. “SILENCE! You’ll remove yourself from this Gathering at once, Redthorn! I will deal with you when we return to camp. I wasn’t asking for your opinion on the matter - or did you forget that your _expertise_ is what got Ivystar killed?”

Redthorn’s blood went cold as whispers broke out amongst the clans. Nobody outside of Windclan knew what exactly what had happened with the foxes, only that Ivystar had died defending her clan from them. For a second, he considered disobeying Adderstar’s orders, but the look on the leader’s face, the undisguised, burning hatred and fury told him that he could very well be exiled right then and there if he disrespected him so publicly any further.

With a snarl, he turned around and pushed through the crowd. He could feel a multitude of eyes following him as he left and, suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore. He sped up until he was sprinting, throwing himself on the log bridge and racing across its slippery surface. 

He almost fell into the lake, but the adrenaline pumping through his system saved him and he tossed himself onto the beach and turned, running along the beach back towards the camp. Once he was far enough away from the Gathering, he skidded to a halt and threw back his head, screaming his rage to the stars. This was a disaster! Starclan was watching them, the moon was shining! Not a single cloud in the sky, not the tiniest inkling that they disapproved of Adderstar at all!

“How are you allowing this?!” he screeched. “Windclan is in ruins and you’re just watching! You’re supposed to protect us! Why didn’t you see it before? Why did you give him his lives?! You should have known this was going to happen! You should have known he was going to be weak!”

He didn’t realize that tears were spilling down his face as he ranted towards Silverpelt, twinkling innocently above him. “Please, Starclan. Help us! Before he destroys Windclan!”

The stars did not answer.


	9. Chapter 9

Just as Redthorn predicted, the leaf-bare that year was harsh. The rivers froze early, frost coated the ground halfway through leaf-fall, and the rabbits were disappearing before the first snows came. The cold came barreling in like a monster, sweeping through as freezing winds, laying siege to the clans with blizzards, and driving the last of the prey to the farthest corners of their nests.

And, just as Redthorn predicted, Windclan suffered.

Without their full territories, the prey they caught was barely a fraction of what they needed. It wasn’t uncommon for hunting patrols to return to camp with a single rabbit to show for the whole day, or even nothing at all. Warriors went hungry. Kits were constantly mewling for their mothers’ milk. Apprentices were subdued, their tails dragging on the ground, their training halted in favor of feeding the clan. Only a single moon into leaf-bare and the first elder, Gorsefoot, died of starvation.

On one particular day, Redthorn was padding back to the clan, head bowed low. He had a thin, lanky rabbit clutched in his jaws, but that was the only thing his hunting party had been able to catch. They pushed their way back into camp to see that Specklefeather was already waiting for them. His usual shaggy, clean fur was matted and thin, easily showing his ribs underneath. His tired eyes raked over them, a glimmer of hope quickly extinguished at the sight of their meager offering.

He sighed and motioned towards the nursery with his tail. “Better take that to the queens. They haven’t eaten today.”

Redthorn nodded and dragged himself over, doing everything in his power not to take a large bite. He was so hungry, every movement sent a shiver of longing through his stomach. Every jostle of the rabbit in his mouth sent more saliva streaming across his tongue. But he had to be strong. The queens needed it most. The clan always came first.

He pushed his way into the nursery. Fernlight was curled around her three kits who were nuzzled unmoving against her belly. She looked to be asleep, but her eyes were open and dull, staring off into nothing. The only sign of life was the gentle, faint rise and fall of her back. She was too hungry to sleep. In the other nest was Quailshade, belly heavy with her second litter, laying back on her side. 

At the sound of rustling, she looked up. Like Specklefeather, her fluffy fur was matted and thin. Despite the swollen stomach, she looked terribly thin and not even her massive pile of fur could cover up the fact that she, too, was starving.

“Redthorn,” she croaked softly. “Have you brought food?”

He didn’t respond, just dropped the rabbit between the two. “This is all we could catch today. It’s all for you.”

Quailshade’s dull, murky eyes lit up for a moment as she looked at the rabbit, but then they rested on Fernlight and darkened again. “You eat first. Your kits need milk.”

Fernlight lifted her head, staring at the other queen for a moment before nodding slowly, reaching forward to take a bite. A moment later, she was ravenously devouring the rabbit in large, hasty bites. Quailshade let her eat for a little bit before she stretched herself forward as well, taking a few small bites herself.

Watching the two queens, barely strong enough to move, scarfing down such a thin, pathetic rabbit as if it was the last piece of prey in the world was too much for Redthorn to handle. He turned and swiftly stepped out of the nursery, trying to control his breathing. His throat was choked up and anger was swiftly rising in his stomach, but quelled quickly by the powerful, crushing sensation of hunger and apathy.

What did it matter now, that Adderstar had given away that land? They couldn’t change it. It was too late. There was no way Riverclan and Thunderclan would just give it away like Adderstar had done and they were too weak now to fight for it.

_This is the end of Windclan._

Sighing, he stumbled forward, headed towards the warriors that were gathered in the center of camp. He needed to hunt more. They needed more food.

Specklefeather looked over the gathered cats, his ear twitching when he saw Redthorn approaching. “You’ve already gone on a hunting patrol today.”

“Send me on another one,” Redthorn growled. “I can keep going.”

Normally, the deputy probably would have rejected him, and told him to rest up. But he knew, just as well as Redthorn, that they couldn’t afford to rest. Not while the clan was starving. He nodded. “Alright. Take Icefeather, Badgerpelt, and Goosebreeze with you.”

Redthorn nodded and the cats Specklefeather called gathered around him. He glanced at Icefeather and, for once, she wasn’t fawning over him or trying to make small talk. Just staring at him with dull, painful eyes clouded by determination. He could relate to that, at least. The determination to see the clan through the season, however hard it would be. To hunt until the clan was fed and cared for.

They pushed out the tunnel and into the snow-covered moors, treading across the freezing cold ground, their senses alert for any sign of prey. For hours they scoured the territory, barely tasting a whisper of rabbit but they didn’t stop. Not until the sun began to fall from the sky.

At last, they admitted defeat and began to return to camp, jaws empty of any prey. Redthorn was exhausted, his feet dragging on the ground, stumbling every so often, stomach howling with pain. He hadn’t eaten in two days now and even then, it had only been a few bites. The others were suffering just the same. Icefeather, ahead of him, looking like she was barely moving at all.

He wasn’t paying enough attention. He didn’t realize that she _wasn’t_ moving. Not until he ran right into her and she collapsed without a sound.

Redthorn froze. Icefeather was laying in the snow before him, face down. She didn’t make any move to get up. He raised a paw and pressed it against her shoulder. She was cold, but that was probably because of the snow and the freezing air. “Icefeather?”

She didn’t respond.

Badgerpelt and Goosebreeze, who’d pulled ahead by now, realized that two of them had stopped. They turned back and padded over, but stopped a few tail-lengths from Icefeather.

Redthorn shook her shoulder. “Icefeather, hey, come on. We’ll make it back to camp. I’ll ask Specklefeather if we can eat today.”

She was silent.

Dread pooled in his stomach and he stopped shaking her. She hadn’t moved at all on her own. Slowly, carefully, he pushed her to the side. She fell limply, exposing her face. Her eyes stared ahead blankly. Cold. Lifeless.

He didn’t understand it at first, staring down at her face. Because Icefeather _couldn’t_ be dead. She’d always been so full of life and joy and love for him and for Hawkpaw and Heatherpaw. She was always scolding them, those kits, for tackling Redthorn whenever he returned from a hunting patrol. She’d purr and lick their heads as they slept, nuzzled against her belly. She would welcome him into the nursery when he returned to check on her and the kits, despite knowing that Redthorn couldn’t bring himself to feel the same. She hadn’t minded, she was happy with what she had. She made the best of it, made her dream of becoming a mother into a reality. And she’d been a good mother. She’d loved her children with everything she had. She’d loved her mate with all her heart but…

He’d never loved her back.

And now she was gone.

It settled on him suddenly and his heart skipped a beat. He stumbled back with a gasp, muttering to himself, “no no no…” but it was pointless. She was dead.

Distantly, he heard Badgerpelt say something, but his eyes were affixed on her face. He had to carry her back. He had to sit with her. She deserved that much, she deserved to be with her kits again. He shuffled forward and leaned down, trying to push himself beneath her stomach to get her on his back, but he was too weak. He couldn’t push her up, he couldn’t move her at all.

Goosebreeze pushed at him, but he only snarled and swatted him away, trying again and again, pressing his muzzle over and over beneath her body until, at last, a weight crashed against his side. He stumbled back, tripping on his own feet, and collapsing into the snow. He scrambled to his paws again to strike back against his sudden attacker, but he paused when he saw Goosebreeze and Badgerpelt lifting Icefeather together.

They looked at him, eyes so deeply filled with sorrow that all the fight left him immediately. He stumbled forward soundlessly and followed them back to camp, never taking his eyes off of Icefeather’s face. 

Time was irrelevant from that point on. It wavered. It slowed. It stopped many times. He was walking behind them, he was falling in the snow. He was barely hanging on, still trying to comprehend how, exactly, Icefeather had died like that. How someone filled with so much vitality could be snuffed out by starvation. Time drifted. It wrapped around his head and pulled him into a white canvas. He was back in camp, now, standing alone. The clan was gathered around Icefeather, moans of pain and sorrow drifting through his ears. Eaglepaw and Heatherpaw were pressed up next to each other, staring blankly at their mother’s body. Someone was next to him. _Who is that?_

“...an order, Redthorn.”

He flinched and his head turned ever so slowly. Specklefeather was standing next to him. He looked so much worse than before, like he was on the verge of quitting and laying down in the snow to wait for the same, slow death as Icefeather.

“What?” Redthorn mumbled. “Sorry...I...I didn’t hear you.”

Specklefeather sighed. “One of the hunting patrols brought back a couple of rabbits. Eat something, Redthorn. That’s an order.”

He nodded blankly and stood, his feet carrying him over to the fresh-kill pile. Or, really, an empty spot that contained one rabbit.

A couple of warriors had already taken bites out of it and Redthorn leaned down, scarfing down a few mouthfuls before stepping away for the next cat to have some. The sun had long since set now and many of the clan were taking up vigils next to Icefeather’s body, despite the freezing air.

He should sit with her too. She was his mate. She had loved him. His kits were there, after all, noses buried in her fur.

But the image of Quailshade popped into his head again and before he knew it, he was headed towards the nursery.

He didn’t care if he shouldn’t be in there. He didn’t care what the clan would think when he didn’t even say goodbye to his mate. He didn’t care he didn’t care he didn’t care! He needed to be with her now.

He stepped into the nursery, the warm milk-scent muted by frost and despair. From her nest, Quailshade’s eyes blinked open and fixed themselves on Redthorn. His heart broke when not even a sliver of emotion passed across her face at seeing her brother and he stepped over her swollen belly, curling up against her back. She let out a small sigh as his warmth pressed against her and she leaned into him. A shiver ran down her back and he responded by hudling closer.

He buried his nose into her fur, desperately praying that it wouldn’t happen to her too. That Starclan wouldn’t be so cruel as to take Quailshade away from him.

As he drifted off to sleep, he continued to pray, murmuring apologies to Icefeather - for never being the mate she deserved, for not saying a proper goodbye, for not sitting with his kits when they needed him because he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Perhaps Quailshade, then, was his emotional crutch that he was leaning on. Perhaps that’s why he was here, to be with his sister when he needed her most instead of the other way around.

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to let her die too. He was going to hunt and hunt until every last rabbit on Windclan’s meager territory was caught, just to keep her alive through leaf-bare. *I’ll do it, Quailshade. I’ll protect you.* The darkness took him then, softly and gently.

His dreams were filled with bone-thin queens and dying warriors, falling away through the snow around him. He desperately grabbed at them with his claws, but one by one they fell, escaping his grip. Falling away...forever…forever...gone forever...

He awoke with a start. Quailshade was moving against him. Her breath coming in harsh pants and her body twitched against his. There was the sound of scraping claws as she scrabbled against the ground in her convulsions. Redthorn’s heart skipped a beat. Multiple beats. He lunged forward, licking frantically at Quailshade’s scruff, as if that would help her at all. “Quailshade? Are you okay? Quailshade!”

She wasn’t okay. She was seizing, convulsing, foam was bubbling at the corner of her mouth. Her stomach was contracting and she gasped in pain. _No, this can’t be happening. She was fine. She was holding on! Why? Why is this happening?!_

“What’s going on? Redthorn what’s happening?” Fernlight’s voice, alert and anxious echoed from across the nursery.

Redthorn didn’t answer her as he jumped to his feet, stepping carefully over Quailshade’s violently trembling form, stumbling out of the nursery into camp. “HELP!” he screamed. “POPPYFUR! HONEYDAWN! IT’S QUAILSHADE!!”

He didn’t wait for them. He turned and shot back into the nursery, back at Quailshade’s side in an instant. She was heaving for breath, eyes rolled into her head, jaws gaping open as she tried to take in air. Redthorn pressed his paw against his shoulder and licked her cheek frantically. “Can you hear me, Quailshade? Please, say something!”

There was a rustling behind him and two bodies moved into the nursery. The medicine cats were here.

“Burnet and juniper berry. Hurry!”

Poppyfur was at his side now, her paw resting on Quailshade’s belly, eyes wide with fear. “No, no, she’s too weak to carry the kits. Her body’s failing.”

Redthorn whipped his head over. No, that wasn’t right. Quailshade wasn’t weak. She was strong! She could make it through this! “T-then...do something! Anything!”

Poppyfur looked over and, for the first time in his life, Redthorn knew it.

Desperation.

Terror.

Poppyfur’s eyes displayed nothing but utter helplessness. She couldn’t help her because no herb could heal a cat from starvation. Herbs didn’t fill empty bellies.

Redthorn remembered earlier, how Quailshade had waited to eat. She hadn’t been eating enough, giving most of her food to Fernlight, to keep her kits from starving too. She didn’t have enough energy to keep herself and the growing kits in her belly alive.

He turned back to her. Her struggles were growing weaker by the second. Her eyes finally rolled back into place, dull and filled with so much pain, Redthorn wanted to tear down the world, if only to stop that expression from ever hardening her features ever again.

He pressed forward, licking the tears that were sliding down her face. “I’m here, Quailshade. You’re going to be okay, alright? You’ll make it through this.”

She took in a shuddering breath, her head falling limp against her nest. Her eyes fixed on her brother for a moment. “R-red...thorn…”

As he watched, her pupils dilated and fogged over, becoming unfocused and misty. Her body went limp and a last sigh escaped her jaws before there was nothing.

Silence.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone reading from Parted Skies - thanks for sticking with me! I'll be finishing Redthorn's Vengeance from here because I do plan to finish it. I mean, we still haven't gotten to the best part! Sorry I left so suddenly, but if anyone wants to keep in touch with me, please don't hesitate to message me on discord!

The world had ended. The stars were falling from the sky. The ground was opening up to swallow him. Darkness had fallen over the sun, _his_ sun, and he would never see the light of day again.

Because Quailshade was gone. His sister, his everything, the one cat that truly meant the world to him. She was gone and he knew _exactly why_.

Every moment longer that he stared at her body, laid out next to Icefeather in the middle of camp, he grew colder and colder within. It had nothing to do with the freezing air that had already sent him shivering out of control. It was like ice was growing in his heart. Quailshade had been the fire keeping him warm, but now that her candle had been blown out, nothing was stopping the cold from taking him over.

He sat there next to them all night long. Cat pressed against him with words of comfort and sorrow - after all, he’d lost both his mate and his sister in a single day. Eaglepaw and Heatherpaw were curled against him, but he didn’t pay them any mind. Berrytail was sitting next to Quailshade, nose buried in her fur, Darkfur and Crimsonstripe sitting on either side, comforting their father in his time of mourning.

They didn’t matter.

All that mattered is that _Quailshade was dead and Redthorn couldn’t protect her._

_I failed._

The sun was beginning to rise, now, just peeking over the edge of the moor. The cold had penetrated so deep within Redthorn that the first rays felt like fire on his skin, but the faint warmth did nothing to thaw him out, nor did it caused him to stir at all.

Not until dawn had truly taken over the world that the elders, weak as they were, came out of their den and approached the two bodies, did Redthorn finally move.

His head turned to watch them, frozen muscles protesting the subtle movement. It didn’t make it through his brain for a minute what was going on, nor did he realize that the clan had gathered around the mourners. Not until everyone had cleared away and the elders were taking up position did it process.

He lurched forward. “W-wait,” he croaked. They couldn’t take her away. He needed her! Both of them, he needed them so much! Something dug into his scruff and jerked him back. It surprised him enough that he stumbled back, giving the elders enough time to lift the two queens.

Redthorn whipped back, about to send a claw into the face of whoever was holding him back, but he froze when he found himself faced with Snaketail.

The warrior looked absolutely devastated and it took Redthorn a moment to remember that he was hurting deeply as well. He wasn’t the only one to lose a sister - Snaketail had lost one in Icefeather.

“Stop it, Redthorn,” he whispered, releasing the warrior’s scruff. “Stop.”

He stared at his former apprentice for a moment before glancing back at the elders. They were carrying the two she-cats out of camp. Redthorn shivered. All he wanted to do was leap forward and stop them because this couldn’t be the last time he’d ever see her. This couldn’t be his last goodbye.

But Snaketail pressed against his side, the younger warrior finally breaking, body become wracked by sobs and Redthorn found himself unable to move.

He watched as they disappeared behind the camp’s barrier, Quailshade’s tail visible for another moment longer before she was gone.

Gone forever.

Redthorn released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Something released in his chest and the ice took the opportunity to spread its freezing grip farther into his veins. He felt lighter than he had before, like he could float away at a moment’s notice, but it wasn’t a good thing. He felt volatile, emotional, ready to snap and break any second now.

And that snap came quite quickly.

“Redthorn. Rest up in the warrior’s den. I need you fit for more hunting patrols later.”

The voice broke him out of his stupor and his head turned around. Next to him, Snaketail sucked in a sharp breath and took a small step away. Adderstar was standing behind him, expression muted by exhaustion and sympathy, but that didn’t matter. Nothing Adderstar felt or said mattered anymore.

_This is his fault._

Redthorn stared at the leader for a moment, jaw gaping open, expression transition from blank nothingness to nothing short of outrage. “You.”

Adderstar blinked, ears twitching. “What?”

It happened in a flash. Snaketail couldn’t stop him, Adderstar couldn’t defend himself. Redthorn fully whipped around, raking his claws across his leader’s face with a snarl, sending Adderstar reeling backwards.

“YOU,” he screeched, lunging after him. Snaketail yowled and tried to reach forward and hold him back, but Redthorn was too fast. He barreled into him a moment later, throwing him to the ground and pinning him there.

“IT’S YOUR FAULT,” he screamed. “YOUR FAULT THAT THEY DIED! IT’S YOUR FAULT FOR ALL OF THIS!!”

Adderstar struggled beneath him, kicking at Redthorn’s belly and hissing wildly, but he was _weak_ and Redthorn was stronger than him. He dug his claws into his pelt and Adderstar cried out, spitting in his face. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“SHUT UP! I don’t CARE that you’re the leader! You killed them! YOU KILLED THEM!! You cowardly, rabbit-brained, piece of SHIT! I should KILL YOU for what you did!”

Adderstar’s eyes went wide, but before he could say anything else, a voice broke between them.

“Redthorn. That’s enough.”

Redthorn’s head whipped around. Specklefeather was standing a few tail-lengths away, his expression dark and serious, but for some reason, Redthorn didn’t think his anger was directed at him. Actually, it didn’t look like many of the clan were interested at all in stopping Redthorn’s attack. A few looked uncomfortable and shocked, sure, but as Redthorn’s eyes raked across the gathered warriors, he couldn’t help but see a few warriors with their eyes narrowed with anger, gazes pointedly glaring at Adderstar and others that simply stood there, watching with blank faces as one of their warriors attacked the leader.

Redthorn began to shake as he turned back to glare down at his leader. Adderstar’s expression was twisted with rage and hatred and…_fear. He’s afraid of me._

His eyes narrowed and something in his mind settled.

_He should be._

He quickly sheathed his claws and released Adderstar, pulling himself away. The tom quickly scrambled to his feet, fur puffed out, blood trickling from the wounds Redthorn had given him. 

“What in the name of Starclan is wrong with you, Redthorn?! Attacking your leader?!”

Redthorn’s lip curled and he whipped around, stalking towards the camp entrance. He felt like he was suffocating here, the clan’s eyes bearing down on him, the emptiness without Quailshade like the whole world crashing down on his back. He heard Snaketail say something, but he pushed past without listening. Adderstar shouted something behind him, but he sped up his pace until he pushed past the entrance and ran out into the desolate, snow-covered territory.

He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t know what he was doing. All he knew was that he was running away, far away, deep into the moors. His paws were frozen and his stomach was screaming and his head was spinning from lack of sleep but he didn’t care. The emptiness was too much. It was all consuming. It burned his skin and it froze the blood in his veins, that gaping pit that was swallowing him.

When he came to he was curled on top of a hill, the same one that he had Quailshade had once talked upon, after the foxes had killed Ivystar. His body was wracked with sobs as all of his emotions spilled into the snow. He was letting go at last.

Time moved strangely. He didn’t know how long he was up there. He knew that he passed out at least once before the soft crunching of pasteps through the snow jerked him out of his timeless stupor.

“Redthorn?” It was Snaketail, his voice hoarse and dry.

Redthorn didn’t look up, staring ahead blankly. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. _Just let me die here, Snaketail. Leave me alone and let me die._

“Adderstar isn’t happy with you.”

Against his will, a faint laugh escaped his chest. “I guess that’s what I get for attacking him.” His voice was worse then Snaketail’s, rasping and labored and so so dry.

Snaketail sighed and sat down next to him. His fiery pelt came into Redthorn’s vision as he took a spot next to him. “He was beside himself when you left. He wanted you found and brought back, but nobody seemed very enthusiastic. Not even Specklefeather.”

Redthorn didn’t reply. He didn’t care. Usually, he would definitely had been embarrassed by his former apprentice seeing him cry, but he was so beyond that point now.

“Redthorn, I’m…”

“If you say you’re sorry,” Redthorn cut him off with a snarl, “I’ll gut you.”

Snaketail made an exasperated growl. “I was going to say I’m on your side. I know why you attacked Adderstar and I wanted to say I agree with you.”

At last, the dark ginger warrior looked up at Snaketail with interest and was surprised by the burn in his expression. It took him a moment to remember, again, that he’d lost his sister as well.

“It’s Adderstar’s fault,” he snarled. “You’re right - he’s weak and he’s driven our clan half to ruin. I didn’t realize how bad it was until you attacked him. Because in that moment, I didn’t want to stop you. I wanted to join you.”

Redthorn gaped at him, forgetting his misery for a moment and pushing himself into a sitting position.

“If it were a cat that had killed Icefeather, I would want them to pay. An eye for an eye. You can’t kill starvation, but you can certainly do something about the one who caused it.”

Redthorn didn’t know what to say. “Does anyone else think this way?”

Snaketail hesitated. “Some of them, I think. I know Fernlight does. And I’m pretty sure Specklefeather does too.”

An idea came to Redthorn’s head. It was outrageous and dangerous and went completely against _everything_ he’d been taught about the warrior code and what it meant to protect his clan. But in the moment, it was the only way.

“Enough warriors to make a difference?” he whispered, an edge to his voice. As he watched, the warrior’s expression hardened as he realized what Redthorn was implying.

After a moment of hesitation, Snaketail nodded.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait for just this short little chapter - don't worry, I have more written and more is coming! Thanks for reading!

Windclan barely survived the rest of that leaf-bare. They lost another elder and an apprentice, Smokepaw, to starvation, but Starclan had saved them from any outbreaks of greencough - the sickness would easily have wiped them out, weak as they were.

As Redthorn predicted, again, when Adderstar had asked Thornstar and Warmstar for prey or bits of their territory back, the leaders had refused, giving excuses that they needed the territory or their clans would starve as well. The warriors that Redthorn now knew hated Adderstar almost as much as him dug their claws into the ground at this exchange. Their leader was a fool and nobody wanted him around anymore, it seemed.

They weren’t obvious about it after Redthorn’s attack, however. They obeyed the leader, if disdainfully, and went about their duties with little enthusiasm. Even Specklefeather didn’t seem to enjoy giving out Adderstar’s commands.

Meanwhile, Redthorn had sought out the many cats in the clan that were ready to see an end to Adderstar’s short rule as leader. Snaketail, his own kits as well as Quailshade’s, Specklefeather, Badgerpelt, Fernlight and her kits, now apprentices, Goosebreeze, Berrytail...and others, making up more than half the clan. They met under the cover of darkness a few times, speaking about what they were going to do, how they were going to save Windclan without upsetting Starclan.

It was at their final meeting that it all came to a head.

“There’s simply no way around it,” Badgerpelt admitted. “We need to break the warrior code. Hell, we’re technically breaking it by meeting like this at all.”

“But you’re talking about attacking the leader and our own clanmaters,” Goosebreeze shot back in a strained voice. “That’s a lot worse than just disobeying him.”

“How else are we going to get Adderstar out of power?” Crimsonstripe asked. “Ask him nicely?”

Fernlight’s tail twitched and her ears twisted back. “We can’t attack our clanmates. It’s wrong.”

“I agree,” Specklefeather grunted. “If there’s a way to do this peacefully, then we should take that option.”

“There isn’t _going_ to be a peaceful option,” Redthorn snarled. “You know Adderstar won’t let go of his position unless we force him to.”

“I don’t know, he might. You know he doesn’t like to get violent,” Specklefeather let out a small, amused huff at the end.

Snaketail, who’d been quiet for most of the meeting, at last raised his head after more bickering between the cats went on. “Hold on, I have an idea. It might be a way to do this with minimal bloodshed.”

The cats went silent and turned to him. “What is it?” Specklefeather asked.

“We group together. Confront Adderstar. We don’t let him leave camp or his den or whatever until he gives up his position as leader. There’s enough of us to overwhelm the rest of the clan. If they see us giving such a display of force, especially with the deputy at the head, they probably won’t fight us. However, if they do, then that means there was no hope for a peaceful approach all along. But I don’t think they will - even those that aren’t directly against Adderstar don’t really like him. I think only a few would not be willing to follow us and they aren’t stupid enough to try and fight back.”

Specklefeather narrowed his eyes as he thought about the young warrior’s proposal. “That’s not a bad idea. What do you think we should do with Adderstar, then, if he gives up his title?”

Snaketail considered for a second before he spoke up again. “We can’t keep him in camp. Exile is the only option.”

There was a murmur through the cats, mostly of approval, that sent a surge of anger through Redthorn’s blood. “Now hold on a second,” he snarled. “We can’t just let Adderstar go without paying. We should take a life from him for every cat that died under his leadership. For Quailshade, Icefeather, Gorsefoot, Smokepaw, and Tinywhisker, we take five. Leave him with four to go run off into the forest with.”

A few cats let out approving meows and nods, notably Heatherbreeze and Eagleheart, who watched their father with admiring gazes, and Fernlight - Smokepaw’s mother. But Specklefeather stared at Redthorn with disapproval and disappointment. “No. That would be needlessly cruel and that would truly be a crime against Starclan. Warriors do not kill unless they must.”

Redthorn growled and opened his jaws to respond when Snaketail cut him off. “Taking Adderstar’s lives like that would only turn the cats in the clan against us. It would make it harder to reestablish control as well. We should exile him - nothing more.”

Redthorn turned to Snaketail to give him a snark response, to reprimand him for talking over a senior warrior but, again, he was stopped, this time by Specklefeather. “Alright. That’s the plan then. Tomorrow, at sundown, we’ll confront Adderstar when he leaves his den to help me organize moonhigh patrols. We’ll surround the Tallrock and I’ll be the one to speak. If it comes to it, be ready with a short reason why Adderstar should leave the clan, to convince the rest of our clanmates.”

The red warrior was outraged. He had been the one to organize this - he was the one that had lost the most to Adderstar, the one that had _never_ trusted the former deputy turned leader. This was _his_ fight and they were pushing away his suggestions, ruling over him, and doing exactly what Adderstar would do - find a peaceful option.

He snarled to himself as Specklefeather wrapped up the meeting and out into the territory to hunt by himself. Some cats went off to do the moonhigh patrol, others off to camp, but Redthorn followed nobody, chasing a rabbit trail to the top of the moors. The chilly moonhigh winds whipped through his ragged fur and he looked up at the stars. 

“Quailshade,” he whispered. “Icefeather. Are you up there watching us?”

There was no answer, but Redthorn continued.

“Make them fight tomorrow. Don’t let it go the way Specklefeather wants. I need to avenge you, please. I want Adderstar to try and fight back so I can tear him to pieces.”

The stars twinkled in confirmation and Redthorn bared his teeth in a grin. They were behind him after all.


	12. Chapter 12

The tension in the clan the following day was heavy. The cats that knew of Specklefeather’s plan went about their duties stiffly and anxiously. The deputy himself seemed calm enough, though, and had organized patrols so that all those that would stand up to Adderstar were in camp when the demonstration would happen.

And Redthorn, of course, was not happy about this. They were all cowards - weak, pitiful, afraid of getting their claws dirty. Adderstar needed to pay for the pain he’d caused his clan and a simple exile wouldn’t clean his slate. Even one life was better than nothing. But Specklefeather hadn’t relented, refusing Redthorn’s demands to hurt the leader before kicking him out.

_But Starclan is behind me,_ Redthorn would remind himself. _They’ll help me get my revenge._

The day seemed to stretch on forever. From sunrise to sunhigh, it felt like it lasted a whole moon. And it got even worse getting to sundown. The anxiety permeating the camp was almost tangible that even Adderstar looked like he was suspecting something when he stepped out of his den every so often, eyeing the members of the clan funny.

At last, however, the sun began dipping into the horizon and the sky was painted with blood-red colors. Redthorn watched these palettes lift into the evening sky, wondering if the color was an omen - if Starclan was sending a message that there would be bloodshed tonight.

He sure hoped it was.

Adderstar stepped out of his den. He paced over to Specklefeather, as he did every night. The leader and deputy sat before the Tallrock and began to speak of the moonhigh patrols. The gray tom glanced around the camp before flicking his tail - the signal to begin. 

Slowly, cats began rising from where they were waiting - some came from their dens, watching intently for the signal from their nests, others sitting at the edges of camp sharing tongues or eating their meals. Regardless, they all stopped. They all rose. And they all surrounded Adderstar and the Tallrock.

Redthorn, too, walked out of the shadows in the corner of the camp and took a spot nearby where the leader was sitting. Adderstar glanced around as cats began crowding the two of them, watching his clan with confusion. “Uh, what is this about? Is something wrong?”

There was silence for a moment as the last of the rebels finished gathering together. Nobody spoke, except for a few growls from Redthorn and confused murmuring. Outside of the circle, the few cats not on patrol that knew nothing of the plan hovered awkwardly, glancing at each other with fear.

“Yes, Adderstar,” Specklefeather grunted at last. “Something is wrong. And we’ve gathered to address it.”

Adderstar turned back to his deputy, a growing sense of unease on his face. “W-what do you mean? What’s going on?”

“We have a problem with you, Adderstar,” Redthorn snarled before Specklefeather could say anything. The deputy glared at him and raised his tail for silence. He went quiet but continued holding his snarl. He needed to make Adderstar angry or else this wouldn’t work.

“What is the meaning of this, Specklefeather?” Adderstar growled.

Specklefeather stood taller. “Your leadership has brought Windclan to the verge of ruin many times. We will no longer sit and watch as you give away territory and disregard the needs of the cats you’re sworn to protect.”

Adderstar’s eyes went wide as he looked around at the gathered cats. He was finally understanding what was happening and Redthorn found it profoundly satisfying to see the leader at last unsure of his place. “W-what? What is this?”

“It’s a mutiny,” Snaketail meowed from where he was behind Specklefeather. “We’re overthrowing your leadership.”

“You’re…_overthrowing me?_” Adderstar stared at the deputy for a moment, eyes glancing to Snaketail for a moment before, slowly, his body began to relax, despite his expression still mostly uneasy. He let out a small, shaky chuckle. “Aha, that’s not very funny, Specklefeather.”

“It’s not a joke,” the deputy shot back, unphased by Adderstar’s laugh that had sent fury through Redthorn’s bones. “You will remove yourself from the camp and from the territory. Go to the other clans, if you’d like, or live as a rogue. I will take your place as leader and start healing the wounds you’ve inflicted on this clan, starting by reclaiming the territory you gave to both Thunderclan and Riverclan. You are no longer welcome in Windclan.”

Through Specklefeather’s speech, Adderstar’s eyes went wider and wider and it seemed that the truth of the matter was at last dawning on him. This wasn’t a joke. This was real and, as he glanced around and caught the expressions on Redthorn, Fernlight, and some of the others that were furious with him, he realized that they were willing to fight for this.

Redthorn doubted he would fight back, but silently he prayed and willed Adderstar to grow agitated, to lash out at Specklefeather so that he could jump in and tear him apart.

There were murmurings around the edge of camp - the other cats were catching on as well and, while a few looked unsure about this whole thing, nobody stepped up to support Adderstar. This was something that the leader seemed to notice as well.

He was looking around the camp, wildly, as if trying to find someone that would help him here, that would support him. “You can’t do this, Specklefeather,” he snapped, but his voice shook. “It’s against the warrior code! I am your leader and I command you to step down at once and return to your duties!”

Nobody moved.

Adderstar gaped at this direct disobedience of his will. It quickly turned into a snarl as he bristled. “I am the leader of Windclan, given nine lives by warriors of Starclan” he growled, glaring at each of the rebels in turn. “I have always done what I thought was the best for this clan. Starclan won’t sit by and watch me be kicked to the side like a cat under a monster’s foot! They will punish you for this!”

“Shut up,” Redthorn snarled, stepping forward. “It’s only because of you that Windclan is in ruins! You’re not fit to be leader. You never were. Starclan be damned - we won’t sit by and let you kill us all!”

A murmur of support ran through the gathered cats at Redthorn’s words and Adderstar whipped around to face him, rage slowly twisting his face. “Redthorn….you...you mange-pelted traitor...this was your idea wasn’t it? I should have had you exiled a long time ago!”

Redthorn’s lip curled and Specklefeather hissed a warning. He didn’t, however, regard this warning. “And look where we are now. Who’s going to listen to you, _Adderclaw?_”

Adderstar’s claws slid out and the cats around Redthorn tensed. It was just at that moment that the last of the patrols returned to find Adderstar surrounded by his own clanmates, on the verge of fighting. The fresh-kill dropped from their jaws as they let out cries of concern, claws unsheathed and looking around wildly. Redthorn felt light-headed with excitement. It was going to happen. Fighting was going to break out now and he’d have the chance that he’d been waiting for for a long time.

He imagined his thorn-sharp claws tearing through Adderstar’s belly, ripping through his wiry fur, tearing out chunks of flesh. This was going to be _glorious._ Redthorn crouched, his snarl slowly twisting into a wild grin.

Just as the tension was about to reach its peak, right as Adderstar looked like he would lunge at Redthorn, an instant before Redthorn threw the first blow, Specklefeather stepped between the two bristling warriors. “That’s enough,” he snarled. “There’s no need for fighting unless you’d _like_ us to drive you out by force. You’ll remove yourself from the camp at once.”

Adderstar looked like he was about to protest again, but after taking another glance around the camp, at the overwhelming majority of cats facing against him, he growled and turned, slinking through the masses of cats and stopping at the entrance. Redthorn watched him go with disbelief, the smile evaporating like mist under the sun. Wait...no! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! They were about to fight, he’d been about to tear that pitiful leader a new one!

At the entrance, Adderstar glanced back at Specklefeather, who had climbed onto the Tallrock, with a last snarl. “Starclan won’t give you your lives, you know. Not when you’ve disrespected them so openly.”

Specklefeather glared at him, but said nothing, staring down disdainfully at the disgraced leader. Adderstar hissed once more before plunging through the exit and out of camp.

Immediately, Specklefeather flicked his tail. “Badgerpelt. Goosebreeze. Make sure he leaves the territory.”

The two warriors nodded and slipped out after him.

Furious, Redthorn turned towards the leader, desperate for something. “Let me go too!”

“No,” Specklefeather commanded. “You’ll stay here, Redthorn. As will everyone else - I must explain the situation to the rest of the clan.”

Redthorn stared at Specklefeather with disbelief. No...this wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all! He thought that Starclan would be behind him, that they’d start the fight somehow! But even the cats that had returned from patrol were catching onto the situation now and everything was rapidly deescalating.

It sent Redthorn seething. He wanted to run out of camp and chase Adderstar down. Give him _at least_ a few clawmarks to remember him by. He’d killed Quailshade and Icefeather! He deserved some real pain!

Whatever Specklefeather was saying was lost to Redthorn. He was too wrapped up in his fury. A small part of him, however, began to rise in his chest, begging for him to calm. Adderstar was gone now. He wasn’t the leader anymore. He was a rogue and if he ever came back, that would be his chance to get his revenge. For now, he would wait and take the place as deputy that had been all but laid out for him.

He and Specklefeather were close. They trusted each other. Redthorn had been his apprentice and the deputy had always given him many roles as the leader of patrols. He was the only choice for the new leader’s deputy.

Then, at last, he could finally make the difference he’d always wanted to make as a young warrior. And he’d be that much closer to his dream of becoming the leader and putting his all into Windclan. So that no queen ever starved to death ever again.

The clan meeting at last broke up once everything had been explained. The cats that hadn’t known about the mutiny still looked unsure and even a little angry, but they followed Specklefeather’s directions without question. Patrols and hunting parties were organized. Goosebreeze and Badgerpelt returned, saying that Adderstar had officially left Windclan territory.

After that news came in, Specklefeather leaped back on the Tallrock and called the clan to meet again. They gathered eagerly, Redthorn more so than others. He knew what this would be about.

“Now that everything is in order for the rest of the night, I will assign a deputy before I go to the Moonpool to receive my nine lives.” He paused and took a breath.

“I say these words before Starclan so that the spirits of our warrior ancestors may hear and approve of my choice.”

_Ah,_ Redthorn thought. _Then this was what they were telling me. Not that there would be bloodshed...but that I would be the next deputy._

“The new deputy of Windclan is Snaketail.”

Redthorn froze as cries rang out around him. He could see his former apprentice, stunned but pleased, rising to his feet to step up to the leader, but he didn’t really _see_ him. All he saw was someone else taking _his_ position. The position he’d worked so hard for, that he deserved more than anyone else. It was him that first inspired the clan to rise against Adderstar, it was his idea to gather together to overthrow him. It was Redthorn that lost most to his leadership. He was the only one that could fix Windclan - he was the one that dedicated his entire life to bettering the clan. Not Snaketail. Not Specklefeather. And certainly not anyone else. _Him alone_.

As he turned his eyes up to the new leader, their eyes connected for a moment. Specklefeather’s gaze was even, almost challenging. He’d seen that expression before, when he lectured Redthorn as an apprentice when he did something wrong or did something he wasn’t supposed to. It sent hot, boiling rage through Redthorn’s entire body.

As long as Specklefeather was leader, he’d never be deputy. He realized that in that moment. He didn’t trust Redthorn anymore. Why didn't he was beyond him, but that was the fact of the matter. It was confusing and, in a way, heartbreaking. That after everything they've been through, he’d chosen now not to trust him with power.

Well, fine. Then Redthorn wasn’t going to play nice anymore. He would get that position of leader. He’d prove to everyone that he was the only one fit to lead and take the reigns of Windclan. A plan was slowly formulating in his head, a way to get Specklefeather out of power.

And it started with his revenge.


	13. Chapter 13

He walked across unfamiliar grounds, strange scents and textures beneath his feet throwing off his navigation. He knew he was leaving behind the clan territories only because he’d gone in a straight line, more or less, and what scent of them still lingered was fading. He wasn’t rushing - after all, why would he _want_ to leave the place he’d called home for so long?

He felt ugly. Vulnerable. Disgraced. Discarded. He had done what was best for Windclan - and for all the clans - and what had his own clanmates done to him? Exilied him. Cast him out. Threatened violence if he did not. Went against the will of Starclan to throw him out of his own clan.

What had he done to deserve this?

He could understand Redthorn’s anger, at least - he’d just recently lost his sister and his mate and he was trying to find someone to blame. He could see how the warrior would point his claws at him - starvation, after all, couldn’t be killed, and he was a savage, brutal creature that only found coping through violence.

Disgusting.

Why _hadn’t_ he thrown him out after being so disrespectful at the Gathering and never apologizing? When he knew about his tendencies to be violent and strike out on his own? He’d been a fool to give Redthorn even an inkling of trust. This was where trusting monsters got him.

Adderstar sighed and stopped moving. The sun was going down now. He should probably find a place to rest. He was exposed on the hilltops here and the chill of newleaf nights was beginning to set in. He veered off his path towards a cluster of trees not far away. Once he reached them, he searched around the bark for moss soft enough to sleep on. What he found was fairly damp and thin, but it was better than nothing.

He carefully gathered together his bedding once he’d done his best to squeeze it dry and set it under a scraggly bush in the trees. He curled up tightly, staring off at the moors in the distance longingly. He already missed Windclan more than he could bear and it still hadn’t fully sunk in yet that he could never go back. Well, he could, but he’d probably be killed or just chase out again.

He sighed, closing his eyes as sleep began to rise. _What am I going to do now?_

…...Adderstar didn’t get long to sleep. A sudden twig snapped broke him right out of his sleep. The sun had fully set now and the moon was rising into the sky. He sat up and looking around, blinking, fully alert. Someone was closeby. He could smell...something, but it was masked by the unfamiliar forest scents.

Suddenly, his gaze fell on a pair of icy eyes glaring at him from the bushes. He didn’t move, watching them with terror until they blinked and disappeared.

Those looked like...Redthorn’s eyes...was this a dream? Was he hallucinating the savage warrior following him around even when he was no longer leader of the clan? But at that range, he should have caught his scent.

Troubled, he rested his head on his paws again, ready to go back to sleep when a dark shape suddenly exploded from the underbrush.

He cried out as it barreled straight into him and began digging into his flank with razor sharp claws. Pain - real pain - split across his skin and he yowled, struggling to get free. His attacker was both bigger and far stronger than him. He couldn’t fight back. He had to run.

He continued trying to fight back, scratching blindly at whoever was on top of him until, just for a moment, the grip on his fur loosened just a bit and he took the opportunity. Shoving at his assailant, he managed to push them away long enough to get to his feet and bolt in the opposite direction.

He was faster - he was a Windclan cat after all and extremely agile. He was made and built for running and hunting, not brute force and fighting. He dodged through the trees and over bushes, tripping over roots and catching his claws in undergrowth. He wasn’t used to running through forests, but his panic and desperation to escape kept him going.

That is, until his foot touched the ground and it touched something that wasn’t forest. It tripped him up and he stumbled forward, falling flat on his face. His head banged against something hard, a sudden, intense pain wrapped around his neck, and everything went dark.

***

He gave chase to Adderstar, but he took his time, taking more care then the exiled leader not to trip through the forest. After all, there were a lot of dangers around that he wasn’t interested in meeting, many of which he’d set himself.

A glint of silver through the leaves caught in the corner of his eye. Seems that Adderstar somehow managed to get past the first few traps.

But it didn’t take much longer to actually come upon the leader, a steel band wrapped tight around his neck, blood running down his chest and dripping off his fur. He was unnaturally still, not even a slight tremble from the pain.

Redthorn’s expression split into a wicked grin. Somehow, it had all worked just as planned. Honestly, it was amazing that it had - Adderstar was slow as shit leaving the territories, giving Redthorn plenty of time to set up a line of fox traps through the forest he’d entered. He’d found a number of them scattered about, a couple with dead foxes still clutched in their metal jaws, and had spent most of the day moving them in place. He’d calculated how far Adderstar would go at his pace and he was right on the dot - only ducking into cover once night had fallen, right near the line of traps that Redthorn had set for him.

It was just a matter of timing and direction to get him on the path once he attacked.

And it had worked - Adderstar was caught. He seemed to be coming back to his senses, a twitch of his tail announcing his return to the living before he took in a gasping breath that was quickly cut off by the weight of the trap around his neck.

Redthorn stood there for a moment, glaring down at the disgraced leader with a twisted grin. He didn’t attack yet - he had, after all, all the time in the world. He wanted to enjoy this moment of power over someone he’d despised for so long. He’d always imagined how he was going to kill him, fantasies that eased his sleeping at night, and now it was time to play them all out. This was part of his plan - necessary...but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it.

Adderstar’s eyes flicked up and it seemed that he finally noticed Redthorn standing there. The look he gave the warrior, filled with so much fear and pain and the realization of his situation, knowing that he was completely at his mercy, was so deliciously satisfying that the hollowness that had grown into a void since Quailshade’s death seemed, at last, to ease just a little. He’d never forget that expression for the rest of his life.

“Hey there, Adderstar,” he whispered without moving an inch. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“R-Red...thorn…” Adderstar gasped through the trap. “What are you...doing…”

Redthorn licked his lips and paced forward a bit, resting a heavy paw on Adderstar’s head and pushing it into the dirt. “Getting my revenge.”

Claws unsheathed and dug into Adderstar’s flesh, welling up blood. With a single, brutal swipe, he tore right through the skin of his face, slashing right through his eye and splattering blood across his fur. Adderstar let out a bloodcurdling screech and writhed under his grip, but that only tightened the trap around his neck.

Redthorn stepped back again and watched as blood began to pool beneath Adderstar’s head. He waited for a while, letting Adderstar’s struggles grow weaker and weaker as he succumbed to the pain and the blood loss until his body went still again.

Starclan healed the wound - he still, after all, had lives to spare. But the time he came to again with a gasp, the wound had closed and the bleeding stopped, but it seemed his eye couldn’t be repaired. All there was now was an empty socket.

His breathing was ragged and terrified. He struggled uselessly against the trap with renewed vigor, the strength granted by Starclan breathing new life to his limbs, but Redthorn had him good and stuck. Not even unnatural strength would break through the trap’s metal jaws.

“2 down. 7 left to go.”

And that’s all that Redthorn said before falling upon Adderstar. It went on for hours - Redthorn finding new, twisted ways to torture the former leader until he died once again. His screaming eventually stopped until he was gazing blankly at the red warrior as he tore him apart over and over again, spilling blood across the forest blood, ripping open wounds that would heal only to be opened again. He had utterly broken and it seemed he’d completely given up.

And that, perhaps, was the sweetest part of it all. The sense of power, of complete domination. Knowing that Adderstar fully deserved this - how many cats had suffered under his care?

Redthorn only stopped when Adderstar reached his final life, gasping awake from Starclan’s healing, but making no acknowledgement to his sudden mortality. Redthorn didn’t fall on him immediately, but stepped over to the latch that could set the leader free...or tighten the noose until he suffocated.

He glared down at the leader, eyes wide and bright with excitement. “I want you to beg.”

Adderstar’s dead, one-eyed gaze moved to look up at him. “W-what?”

“Beg for your life.”

He didn’t seem to even comprehend what Redthorn was saying, staring blankly at him for a moment until, slowly, Redthorn began to tighten the trap. “Beg, Adderstar,” he snarled as he began to gasp.

Adderstar clawed at the ground, trying to take in breathe, but the trap was making it harder and harder and Redthorn was only tightening it more and more. “I...I…”

“BEG,” he roared.

“P-p-please…” Adderstar gasped. “P-p-please d-don’t...p-please l-l-let me...l-l-live…”

“Why?”

“B-because...I...I d-d-on’t...want to...d-d-die…”

“But why should I keep you alive?” Redthorn bared his teeth in a devlish grin. “Don’t you deserve to die?”

“I...no…” he choked as Redthorn suddenly tightened the trap.

“Think carefully now,” Redthorn snarled. “I could leave you here like this, if you want.”

Tears were pricking at the corner of Adderstar’s eyes now as he struggled with all his might to take a breath. “I...d-d-deserve...it...I sh-should...die…..but I….don’t…..want to….please…..Redthorn p-please...don’t...kill…...me….”

Redthorn didn’t respond immediately, but simply enjoyed the moment. Incredible pleasure filled his entire body and he sighed happily. “It’s nice to hear you speak the truth, Adderstar. It really is.”

He leaned down and ripped the stake right out of the ground, releasing the former leader from the trap.

Adderstar gasped loudly and sucked in a deep breath, choking on the air rushing into his lungs. Redthorn let him recover for a moment before stepping forward, leaning down to help Adderstar get to his feet, nudging at his side with his nose.

“Th-thank...you…” Adderstar gasped as he stumbled forward, trying to catch himself. He was weak and still trying to catch his breath, his whole body trembling.

“No problem,” Redthorn mumbled...before lunging forward and tearing out his throat.

Adderstar’s eyes widened with surprise as blood burst from his chest and joined the still wet pools of blood at his feet. He choked, spraying his muzzle with gore and his feet slipped on the slick grass beneath him. He tried to take a breath, but all he got was a gurgle of blood from his torn windpipe.

Redthorn didn’t step back, simply stood over him, watching with an icy cold gaze gleaming with ecstasy as he collapsed again, painting the grass red once again. It wasn’t a particularly slow death but it was surely a painful one. It only took a few moments for Adderstar to jerk once and go still, the light at last dying from his eyes permanently.

“And that’s nine,” Redthorn hissed, licking his jowls and tasting the residue of blood that had splattered on him. It barely darkened his pelt at all, but he was sure it was all clotted and ragged. He’d have to clean himself off before returning to camp.

The sun had set beneath the horizon and the stars were beginning to come out. Redthorn looked up, a few of the twinkling lights showing through the trees. He snarled in defiance. _I better not see you up there, Adderstar, when it’s my time to join Starclan._ He glanced back at the disfigured body, pelt so matted in blood he could barely tell it was Adderstar. He’d leave it to the crows - one last disrespect to the leader of Windclan.

The first part of his plan was done now. Specklestar had already visited the Moonpool and surely received no lives - the previous leader still had all of his, after all. Starclan wasn’t merciful - they were tactful and orderly. They wouldn’t just give a mutineer a bunch of lives.

But now that Adderstar was dead...it was all set up for Redthorn to ascend. Now he just needed to be rid of Specklestar and Snaketail.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be posting these chapters a little more frequently now, since not only is the whole thing completed but available to read on the Falling Leaves discord server.

Redthorn padded across the moors, tail flicking behind him. The cats that were on patrol with him conversed amongst themselves, not really paying him any mind. He’d come back from his little trip with the excuse that he was searching just beyond the border for more prey - the leaf-fall was harsh enough for the weakened clan that he only received a light punishment for crossing the border.

But his plan was all in place now. He was absolutely sure that Specklestar only had a single life. But now that Adderstar was dead, well, he could change that. _All I need to do is get him killed. Snaketail will surely pick me as his deputy. Once he’s on his way to the Moonpool...I’ll stage a little accident for him and I’ll be set._

But now came the trouble - how exactly was he going to kill Specklestar without any kind of suspicion?

He’d had an idea - it was a stupid one, a risky one, but it might actually be the only way he could get that position he wanted, that he desperately needed. Not just for himself, but for the good of Windclan.

Badgerpelt and Fernlight’s ears perked. A rabbit was bounding away across the moors. “You go after that one,” Redthorn purred. “I’ll look near the river. And keep an eye out for Berrytail as well.”

They nodded and bounded off, leaving him and Crimsonstripe alone. The dark tom looked over at him and gave him a small smile. “I’ll come with you.”

Redthorn paused just as he took a step forward, looking back at his nephew. “No, why don’t you go after them? I like hunting by myself, after all.”

Crimsonstripe gave him a strange look and Redthorn internally begged that he just turn around and walk the other way. After a moment, he did, with a small dip of his head, and turned, disappearing into the underbrush.

Now that he was alone, Redthorn strode forward with purpose, following the path down across the moors towards the river that separated Windclan from Thunderclan. Where, what seemed like a lifetime ago, he’s fought his first battle as a warrior, where Ivystar had recognized his skills in battle.

Maybe if she hadn’t died...if Redthorn hadn’t let the foxes kill her like that...maybe things would have turned out differently. She would have been there, her strength and leadership pushing them through the harsh leafbare. Then Icefeather and Quailshade would still be here with him. And maybe she would have outlived Adderstar, who probably would have died in some stupid way, the coward. Or maybe, when he stepped up, then it would have been at a time when Windclan was not so vulnerable. 

Maybe this was all Redthorn’s fault, that things had ended up like this…

No. Cut that thought now. This was how things were now and he couldn’t stop it. Nobody could. With a grunt, he continued across the moors, until the bubbling of the creek reached his ears.

There was a rather thick bush just on the Windclan edge, smelling strongly of the scent markers. The sunhigh patrol had passed by not long ago, so he was safe from being caught by them for now.

He crouched down and waited patiently, curling his tail over his scarred paws.

It didn’t take long. The undergrowth on the other side of the river parted and two Thunderclan warrior slid out. The gray and speckled one named...Mousewhisker? And that other one, the light ginger - Brightfang. The one he talked to at the last Gathering.

“Where is that warrior?” Mousewhisker growled. “I thought he’d be here?”

“He said he’d be here at sunhigh to talk about something important,” Brightfang whispered back. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”

“That I am,” Redthorn responded, stepping out of the bush. Brightfang turned his head carefully while Mousewhisker flinched back, ears flattening against his head. “You!”

Redthorn stared at the gray warrior when a sudden memory returned to him. “Ah, you’re the warrior I got real good in that fight a while ago, yeah?”

“You left a big scar,” he snarled, showing off his shoulder. Redthorn felt something stirring as he gazed at the long-healed wound across the warrior’s flank. He’d caused that. It might have been a while ago and he might only vaguely remember it, but he’d definitely done it.

He said nothing - why should he apologize for something he was proud of?

“Anyways,” Brightfang cut in, clearing his throat. “What did you want to talk to us about?”

“I need your help,” Redthorn started immediately.

“And why would we even consider helping a Windclan warrior?” Brightfang shot back. “Our clans hate each other, or did you conveniently forget that?”

“You want revenge against Windclan, right? You want to end the feud once and for all with Thunderclan on the top?”

The two warriors paused, glancing at each other. “What are you talking about?”

Redthorn stopped and stood, pacing on his side of the river as he weaved his tale. “The last leader of Windclan, Adderstar, is gone. Windclan is in a precarious state right now. The leader that has taken his place is weak-willed but spiteful of the other clans. I...I hate him,” Redthorn’s gaze hardened. “I hate all of them. I want them to pay for what they’ve done to me...to my sister...to Adderstar…” It was hard getting those last words out, but he managed to hold in a spit.

“I want Windclan to crumble...completely. So that it can rebuild again, with me on top. No more weaklings will take control ever again. We won’t go to war for no reason or spit in the face of the other clans. We’ll follow in Adderstar’s pawsteps, but better than he could ever be. For that...I need help.”

The Thunderclan warriors were staring at him with wide eyes, but Redthorn ignored them and continued. “I would employ the help of rogues, perhaps, but they’re too volatile. Too quick to fall into betrayal. I know I can trust Thunderclan warriors - even though I may hate you, I know that you keep your word and that you’ll do whatever you can to take down the weakness that has become of Windclan.”

Brightfang and Mousewhisker shared a glance. “How do we know we can trust you? That you’ll just have your clan ready and turn against us?”

Redthorn’s eyes narrowed and he turned. “Wait here a moment.”

He padded just down the river, to a hollow beneath a single tree that grew on this side of the river. There was a flash of movement in the corner of his eye and he whipped around. All he was faced with was underbrush and the long grasses of the moor. Narrowing his eyes, he slowly turned away, back to the base of the tree. Hidden beneath its roots was a mound of leaves and scattered grasses that he’d shoved inside. After digging through it for a bit, he grabbed what was underneath and dragged it out, throwing it over the edge of the river. “Does this satisfy your question?”

It was the body of Berrytail.

***

It was sundown by the time Redthorn was returning to camp, his jaws laden with rabbits. He’d did as he said he would - gone off hunting alone. Perhaps he’d taken more time than normal, but he at least was returning before moonhigh and at least he was returning with prey.

He padded into camp - the others that were on the patrol were already back and gave him a nod. At least it wasn’t out of character to go hunting alone - he’d done it a lot since Quailshade’s death. He set his kills on the pile and was about to turn to find Snaketail when Crimstonstripe appeared behind him.

He blinked and looked down at his nephew. The cat looked nervous and was twitching his tail. ”H-hey, Redthorn? I gotta talk to you.”

Redthorn felt something sink in his chest, but he nodded anyways. “Yes, what is it?”

Crimsonstripe looked around camp, rumbling in his chest. “Uh...outside of camp? If that’s okay? I don’t want to be overheard?”

Now what was this about? He could only guess and he had a really, _really_ bad feeling that it was exactly what he thought it was. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak at the moment and Crimsonstripe led him through the camp exit.

How was he going to deal with this? If he knew, if he’d _seen_, then he couldn’t just...let him go! But killing Crimsonstripe, his own flesh and blood, the son of the cat he loved more than anyone else in the world?

No...he couldn’t do that. He could _never_ do that. He loved Crimsonstripe, almost as much as his own son, but if he _knew_, it could ruin everything. _Nothing will stand in my way._

He unsheathed his claws as the cat turned around and sunk them into the dirt. “Well, what’s this about?”

Crimsonstripe was silent for a moment. “I...I saw you. At the border. With the Thunderclan warriors.”

_No._

“Did you...did you really mean it? That you wanted Windclan to crumble? That you’re willing to betray us?”

Redthorn was dead silent, horrified. Was Crimsonstripe really this naive and stupid? If he knew what he was planning, if he’d seen the body...then what made him think that Redthorn wouldn’t kill him on the spot as well? No, wait, he couldn’t assume he’d heard everything.

“How long were you standing there? I’m impressed,” he added on as an afterthought. “I didn’t even know you were there.”

The cat seemed to relax a bit from the praise, apparently not seeing the faint glint of Redthorn’s claws in the growing darkness. “Oh...I left when...when you turned from the river. I thought you’d found me out and I panicked and ran. I was just curious to see where you were going. I feel like you’re never in camp anymore and wanted to see what you were up to.”

Redthorn silently released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “I see.”

So. He hadn’t seen. He didn’t know. His claws slowly slid back into his paws, with a little hesitation. It was still dangerous to leave Crimsonstripe running around with the information that he knew. “Well, I was only doing what Specklestar had asked me.”

“Huh?” Crimsonstripe looked up at Redthorn with confusion. “Wait, Specklestar...told you to do that?”

Redthorn nodded. “Nobody else in the clan is supposed to know. He trusted me because he knew it would sound the most believable coming from me. He wants to teach Thunderclan a lesson and is trying to lure them into a trap. They still think that they can keep the territory Adderstar had given them, and knows that the only way to fix this is with a good, harsh fight that will scare them away from out clan for good.”

Crimsonstripe sighed with relief. “Oh. Okay, I see. That’s a relief - I really thought you’d betray us, Redthorn.”

_Is this really Quailshade’s son?_ Redthorn thought with disbelief. _He’s so dumb!_

“Y-yes, well, I would appreciate you keeping this to yourself. After all, nobody is supposed to know about it. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Crimsonstripe nodded enthusiastically. “Alright. You can count on me, Redthorn.”

Redthorn nodded and stood. “Well, if that’s all, we should really return to camp.”

The warrior nodded and bounced to his feet, following as the older warrior led him back. But Redthorn paid him no mind, head whirling with all that was happening.

It would happen soon - in only a few days time. Thunderclan would attack - led on by Mousewhisker and Brightfang and Redthorn would make sure that Specklestar died. And then...his path to leadership would finally be clear.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait - I am going to post the rest of the story right now, because I'm kind of tired of forgetting about it! Please enjoy!

The days between the meeting with the Thunderclan warriors and the battle they had planned together could not have crawled any slower if they tried. Redthorn kept a close eye on Crimsonstripe, whenever he could, but the warrior had shown little sign of betraying him. He doubted that he was even smart enough to do so, though. And too loyal to him anyways. He noticed that he constantly shot him knowing glances whenever Specklestar was nearby and that put Redthorn on edge.

Specklestar hadn’t given him any thoughts either, too busy speaking with Snaketail constantly about how they would improve the clan and strengthen them back to their former glory. Redthorn found himself purposefully left out of these discussions, something that both infuriated and amused him. Specklestar thought he was safe now, huh? He thought that he could control Redthorn, keep him from fulfilling his destiny. He thought he was a leader.

_Not for long, Specklestar. Not for long._

When the day finally came, Redthorn spent it on edge, messing up hunts, flinching at sounds. His eyes flitted constantly whenever there was movement at Specklestar’s den. Whenever he saw a flash of red. Nothing could go wrong - this could be his only chance.

But he wasn’t just nervous about the possibility for failure. He was giddy with excitement, his claws itching for a real fight. The last time he’d bloodied them was his brutal murder of Adderstar less then a moon ago and the last fight he’d had...the last _proper_ fight, had been the fight with the foxes that had been the beginning of the end..

It was time, once again, to prove why he was the strongest warrior in all the clans. _And why I’m the only one fit to rule._

He was returning from a hunting patrol, only a single rabbit clutched in his jaws. The cats around him were silent, mouths too full of prey to speak with each other, and they pushed through the camp entrance together.

The instant they did, however, Redthorn knew something was wrong.

Cats were swarming across the camp, stopping to speak with each other, panic alight on their faces. Queens were rushing kits to their dens and the apprentices were shaking with excitement. Redthorn blinked with surprise. _What on earth is going on?_

The first cat that ran into him - Badgerpelt - merely glanced in his direction and his ears pressed against his head, eyes wide with shock. Redthorn opened his mouth to ask, but before he could, without a word, the warrior turned and disappeared into the swarm of cats.

Redthorn set his rabbit down on the fresh kill pile and pushed through the crowd. This couldn’t be about Thunderclan, could it? Crimsonstripe wouldn’t be that stupid and they couldn’t have found out on their own. He needed to find Snaketail or Crimsonstripe and figure out what was going on.

But they found him first. Snaketail, at least, with his eyes flashing, closely followed by Badgerpelt. As soon as the clan saw them, they suddenly froze and parted, making room for the standoff. Redthorn didn’t have a chance to think before a heavy weight slammed into his side. He cried out as he fell, pressed firmly into the ground.

A gray sleked pelt was above him, holding him against the earth, blue eyes gleaming with anger. “Redthorn,” Specklestar snarled. “You filthy traitor. I should kill you right now.”

Redthorn hissed and struggled against the leader’s hold. “What in the name of Starclan are you talking about?!”

“You thought you could go behind my back and conspire with _Thunderclan?!_” The leader’s voice was rising to a shout. “I thought you were getting better, that Adderstar finally being exiled would quell your violent tendencies! So imagine my surprise when Crimsonstripe appeared in my den and asked when ‘the fight’ was going to be, and if we were going to get ready for it!”

Redthorn’s blood went cold, his eyes drifting towards Crimsonstripe, who was gazing down at him with an expression of terror and hurt.

No, no this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. How could they know! After everything he’d done to plan this out, after all the work he’d done to get his pawns into position, to finally wipe these idiots from the clans and put himself at the top of Windclan’s rule...all the moons of pain and hurt and _rage_ only to be stopped just short of victory!

“You got it all wrong,” Redthorn hissed. “You gotta let me explain!” But what could he say? He was crying out in desperation. He needed a minute to think, a second to come up with a story that would wipe him clean of this.

But Specklestar was having none of it. “No, Redthorn. You’ve said quite enough. If you don’t want to die, then you will leave. I don’t want-”

Whatever he was about to stay was cut off when a yowl echoed from outside the camp. Specklestar’s head whipped up to glare at the entrance to the camp just in time to see it burst open. Thunderclan warriors poured into the Windclan camp, screeching and jumping on whoever was in sight.

_This is it!_ Redthorn snarled and heaved himself up, knocking Specklestar off of him and sending him tumbling onto the ground. The leader yowled out in shock as Redthorn threw himself on top of him, a grin spreading across his face. 

“It isn’t too late, Specklestar!” he screamed into the leader’s face. “I’ll still do it! Starclan has chosen me, you know! They’ve chosen me to rebuild this clan! You won’t stand in my way!”

He raised his claws, a loud, screeching laugh escaping his throat when, all of a sudden, something heavy slammed into his backside. Redthorn was thrown off of the leader and found himself smothered by dark red fur.

“I trusted you!” Crimsonstripe screeched. “I thought you loved me! I thought you loved my mother!” His claws dug into Redthorn’s flank, but he wasn’t going to sit there and take it. Fast as a snake, he wriggled out from underneath the warrior’s grip, the wounds stinging where fur and skin were ripped off. He quickly snapped himself around and raised himself up, raining down blow after blow over Crimsonstripe’s head.

There were writhing bodies all around and Redthorn could barely move around with the combined mass of both the Windclan cats and the Thunderclan invaders, but still, he outmatched Crimsonstripe by miles. It wasn’t just his ego claiming to be the greatest warrior the clans had ever seen - he lived up to that name in full.

It only took a few moments for Redthorn to overwhelm the warrior and get him on the ground. This time, he didn’t hesitate, lunging forward and sinking his teeth into his throat without mercy, twisting his head for good measure, hearing and feeling a tear as skin and sinew were torn apart.

Crimsonstripe choked beneath him and struggled, but every movement grew weaker and weaker, Redthorn refusing to relent. After only a few seconds, his body went still and Redthorn at last released his grip, licking the blood off his jowls and looking around for the next target.

He couldn’t tell who was who, his eyes were shaded with the red haze of battle and blood. Too many pelts, too many colors whirling past him, unfamiliar scents mixed with the familiar odors of his home and the disgusting stench of the forest, all drowning in the metallic taste of blood.

Something whipped past him and his claws lashed out instinctively. They dug into soft ginger fur and he leaped forward, taking the warrior down with him. He found himself staring down at familiar eyes set against a delicate honey-colored coat. _Fernlight._

“R-redthorn?” The queen squeaked. “Y-you wouldn’t…we were friends...”

In that moment, consumed by bloodlust, by rage, and by the inexplicable excitement of battle, he didn’t care. He didn’t hear. All he saw beneath him was another Windclan warrior that he had to kill. And so he slashed forward, his claws digging blindly into her fur.

She let out a screech of pain filled with so much more than the physical wound he had inflicted on her. It was heartbreaking, shattering, and seemed to reach the stars that were beginning to twinkle above. But Redthorn didn’t hear. All he could hear was the screeching and crying of Quailshade that night as she struggled to hang onto life, her convulsing body against him and the stillness and cold that finally fell over her as she took her last breath.

And the memory of Adderstar trembling beneath him as he took away life after life after life until Redthorn was once again left with emptiness and nothing to fill that void.

Nothing but anger and hatred and _blood_.

And so his claws dug in deeper, until the body beneath him began to grow still. That was when he knew to move onto the next. To find his next opponent.

This time, however, he looked more carefully. He couldn’t keep getting distracted by lesser warriors. He had to find Specklestar. _He had to kill him._

This could still work!

He pushed through the throng of cats, lashing out at anything that stood in his way until, finally, the dark gray pelt of the leader came into view. His lip curling with rage, he shot forward, barelling into the cat from behind and locking his jaws down on the back of his neck.

He fell with a cry, twisting around to try and scratch at Redthorn, but he couldn’t reach him, he couldn’t get him off. Redthorn only bit down harder as he tried to struggle against him, his jaws locked around his spine.

With a twist of his head, it snapped and Specklestar went limp.

At last releasing the body from his jaws, Redthorn stepped back, glaring down at the body of the leader before him. He could barely see, his vision almost blurred, hyper aware of everything, yet barely able to see at all. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. He wanted to see the dead body of the leader.

He wanted to see the results of all of his work.

Specklestar lay before him, neck twisted at a strange angle, green eyes gazing off into the distance, cloudy and dead.

...wait...Specklestar didn’t have green eyes.

“Mousewhisker!” A voice gasped beside him. Redthorn turned with surprise. It was Brightfang, staring down with shock at the warrior that lay before them. For a moment, clarity came to Redthorn’s head and he realized what had happened just as Brightfang realized the same.

The golden warrior’s eyes slowly moved up to stare at the Windclan warrior. “You killed him,” he whispered. “You...betrayed us.” His expression began to twist into a hateful snarl. “I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a Windclan warrior.”

He crouched, ready to leap when there was a loud yowl from the direction of the exit. “Thunderclan, retreat!”

Brightfang yowled with frustration as bodies began to swarm past. “This isn't over, Redthorn!” he hissed as he turned to go. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done today!”

Redthorn merely watched, numb and shocked, as the attackers swarmed out of the camp and disappeared.

Wait...wait a second...they couldn’t leave yet! He wasn’t done! Specklestar wasn’t dead! Redthorn whipped around just in time to see the golden pelt of Snaketail crashing into him. He yowled as he went down, immediately setting to struggling and fighting back, but a second, heavier body slammed down on top of him as well. Badgerpelt.

“Get this traitor out of my sight,” came a furious hiss. “I’m not going to kill him in cold blood. Throw him out in the territory. Let him fend for himself. He’s not Windclan’s responsibility anymore.”

Redthorn’s struggles grew harder. “No! You don’t! Understand!” He had to get out! He had to he had to he had to be leader! Starclan told him, they said he’d do it! They blessed him!

“I think we understand perfectly, Redthorn,” Snaketail hissed. “You can’t weasel your way out of this one.”

Redthorn snarled back into his face and tried to bite forward but a heavy paw held him down.

He struggled with all his might. They were weak! He could break free from this! They couldn’t just hold him here forever! He continued to thrust up, trying to throw the weight off of his back, but he couldn’t. He was trapped under the combined forces of Badgerpelt and Snaketail.

“Knock him out of something. I don’t want any more blood spilled in camp.”

“And then what?”

Redthorn heard nothing more as a heavy weight slammed against the back of his head and the world went black.

***

His dreams were filled with blood and darkness and screeching and crying. Images flitted past his eyes at a breakneck pace. The stars danced behind his eyelids, bleeding their light down to the world below before each twinkling out with a single flash. A sob sounded in his ears, pained and broken, and he whirled to face it. “Quailshade?” He called into the darkness, but nobody was there.

He was all alone.

All of a sudden, he jerked awake, his eyes snapping open only to be barraged by a stream of bright light. He moaned and snapped them shut again, rolling over to face away from the rising sun. The scents around him were unfamiliar and strange - he wasn’t in the Windclan camp anymore.

Wait…

Suddenly, all the grogginess of sleep left him at once. He wasn’t...he wasn’t in camp. He was somewhere else, somewhere he didn’t know. He scrambled to his feet and whipped around, tasting the air, trying to get himself some kind of direction but…

He had never been here before. There were moors, sure, but they weren’t the ones he grew up on. Trees in the distance, but not against the lake. No Horseplace in the opposite direction either. He was utterly lost and alone.

The memories of the day came whirling back to him quickly, as well as fleeting glimpses of half-conscious memory that he wasn’t sure he dreamed or not. The screaming of cats in battle...his great loss...being knocked out by someone he once trusted...and then he remembered the sky, it was bleeding. The stars were breaking and Quailshade’s distressed face tried speaking to him...he was being dragged across the moors, murmuring in the corner of his senses and a different voice on the other side.

He teetered on the spot, confused, lost, but one thing was certain.

He had failed.

The anger came swiftly and it was like a flame had met the trees and ignited the forest in an instant. He couldn’t keep himself from screaming his anguish to the sky as the sun behind him began to rise. This was all wrong! Everything was wrong! Starclan had blessed him, they’d _promised_ that he would succeed! Even in his dreams, they’d foretold his rise to power but now…

Specklestar had beaten him! All of his careful planning and plotting and everything he’d done to secure his place as leader...everything had gone to waste.

Claws dug into the soft earth as he trembled violently on the spot, his flesh unable to contain the force of his rage. Eyes popped from his head and a trail of drool fell from his snarling jaws.

No. He wasn’t going to give up. He’d _never_ give up. Windclan belonged to him. It had always belonged to him. He was going to take it back from that filthy traitor, no matter what he had to do.

Yeah, no matter what.


	16. Chapter 16

Despite telling himself that he was going to take Windclan back, Redthorn realized that he literally had no way of doing that just yet. He didn’t have any allies, he didn’t even know where he was. They must have dragged him far away and hidden their scents so he couldn’t follow them back.

He wandered across the moors for a while, aimlessly, just trying to get his bearings. But he must have been going in the wrong direction, as none of the geography looked even vaguely familiar and only got stranger and stranger. There was a Twolegplace nearby...yeah, that wasn’t anywhere close to the clans, as far as he knew. A dense forest was near the edge, but it wasn’t like Thunderclan’s woods or Shadowclan’s pine forest. He had a couple of options in front of him - wander the Twolegplace and try to get directions, or wander through the forest and find some wild cats. He snarled to himself and turned away from the second option - if he was going to be lost, he’d rather do it beneath the sky, even if that meant wandering through a Twolegplace.

He’d never actually been in an area like this before. His only real experience with Twolegs was from the Horseplace, but that wasn’t nearly as dense as this place. Large structures and fences all over the place, tall enough that they blotted out the sky. He kept to the shadows, slinking in and out of alleyways where the Twolegs rushing around wouldn’t see him.

He could feel the eyes of cats watching him, but they disappeared as soon as his gaze met theirs. There was an air of mistrust and hostility that he wasn’t used to in the slightest and it put him on edge a little bit. Still, he carried himself tall. He was still a clan warrior - nothing would change that.

At one point, as he stepped into one of the alleys, a hiss met his ears. His ear twitched and he turned around, but not quick enough. He felt a weight suddenly fall on his back and he reacted instantly, letting himself drop and using the force to roll over and throw off his attacker. They screeched in surprise as he suddenly jumped on top of them, holding them down with brutal force.

His fangs bared, prepared to sink into the throat of whoever had dared to attack him, but he stopped when he gazed down at the terrified face of...

Ah. A kittypet. The collar gave it away.

He snarled and released them, stepping away. “That was fucking stupid. Don’t pull that shit again,” he snarled as he padded away, already ignoring whatever they were doing back there in favor of finding a place to settle down for the night. He heard them scrambling to their feet and panting with the effort of the attack, but he promptly ignored them.

“H-hey, w-wait?”

Redthorn didn’t listen, merely continued on, nose twitching.

“Hey, stop! I just wanna talk!”

There was the padding of pawsteps rapidly getting closer and it was enough to send an explosion of white-hot anger searing through Redthorn’s veins. Why didn’t anyone listen to him?! Were they not taking him seriously? He didn’t want to talk and he’d made that abundantly clear. He didn’t care what this stupid kittypet had to say!

He whipped around and lashed out with one of his claws, slashing the black and white cat across the face. He reeled back with a cry as blood suddenly splattered against his fur. “HEY, what’s your problem?”

Redthorn growled, flexing his claws as the cat stepped away from him. “Leave me alone, idiot,” he growled before turning away again.

“You’re one of those forest cats aren’t you?”

Redthorn froze. He turned his head back to glare at the kittypet. “Excuse me?”

The cat was rubbing at the scratches on his face with a worried face. They weren’t deep - Redthorn wasn’t out to kill the idiot, but they were still bleeding. He wondered if the kittypet had ever even been slashed like that before. “The cats from the forest. You know, the ones that are super fierce and good fighters and stuff. Those were some crazy moves!”

Redthorn turned around fully, his attention grabbed. Maybe he knew where the clans were. “So you’ve heard of us.”

The cat paused, eyes widening with awe, bloodied paw lowering from his muzzle. “Oh...I was right! Wow...that’s amazing! Y-yeah, there’s always been stories of you guys floating around! Do you really eat bones?”

Ah, he’d heard that one before. An old nursery tale that mothers would tell their children to keep them far away from the clan borders. Whenever he met some stupid kittypet or loner inquiring about the clans...that was usually a popular question. “No,” he scoffed. “Of course not. We hunt our food and eat the meat, but cats can’t eat bones.”

“Oh,” the kittypet looked a little disappointed, but then perked up immediately. “I’m George, by the way!”

“Redthorn.”

“Oh wow,” eyes widened again. “Cool name! What are you doing here, Redthorn?”

He stared at George with narrowed eyes. Silence stretched between them for a moment, as Redthorn considered saying something about his predicament, but George shifted uncomfortably and that was amusing enough for Redthorn to just ignore the question entirely. “If you know about the clans, you know where they are, right?”

George hesitated and then lowered his head. “N-no, not really. I’ve never left the city.”

“City?”

“Uh, this place. With all the houses and buildings. It’s called a city.”

Ugh, this Twoleg cat lingo was so annoying. He flicked his tail dismissively. “Whatever. Are there other cats running around?”

The kittypet perked up. “Oh, yeah! There’s a bunch of cats! Most of them are part of Hammer’s group and they’re pretty fierce but…” he paused, looking over Redthorn’s rippling muscles and the scars littering his pelt. “I think you’ll be okay.”

Fierce cats, huh? Fierce enough to take on the clans? An idea was beginning to form in his head. It was reckless, foolish, and absurd, but if it worked, which Redthorn would very much like it to work, then it would guarantee him a place at the top of Windclan, at last.

“Lead me to them.”


	17. Chapter 17

The Twoleg place was huge. So many dens squeezed so close together, lots of alleyways to dip into, many with glowing eyes flashing as George and Redthorn stepped by. The kittypet was on edge as he led Redthorn through the city, but he had assured him a while ago that he wasn’t as scared now that he had someone who could fight leading him around.

Another coward.

As they walked, George told him all about Hammer, who was apparently the leader of this band of rogues. He was huge and powerful, with almost as many scars as Redthorn. He was respected by the cats of the city but also feared - anyone that tried to steal food from his group were harshly punished, sometimes killed. It sounded a lot like a clan to Redthorn, but for some reason, if anyone in his own group defied him, he usually let it slide or offered them the chance to leave. That didn’t sound like the makings of a very good leader.

Cats that defied a leader should be punished.

They rounded a bend and slipped into another alleyway and immediately Redthorn could feel the shift in the air. Where the rest of the Twoleg place smelled like sewage and Twolegs, but the atmosphere was relatively light. This was dark, heavy and smelled strongly of cats. Eyes flashed in the darkness as rogues peered out from hiding places. Dark pelts streaked with mud and filth approached slowly from the corner of Redthorn’s eyes. Curious, perhaps, but not immediately aggressive.

Some had the ghost of a snarl etched on their faces, others stood erect, watching with wide eyes as this muscular, healthy, scar-littered, battle-seasoned warrior stepped through their ranks, holding his head high, and glancing without fear at each an every one of them.

Because Redthorn was not afraid of a bunch of rogues. He could take them on if they attacked. He would kill them all without a second thought.

At the end of the alleyway, atop a strange green...thing, stood an absolutely massive cat that actually had Redthorn thinking twice about his safety. Rippling muscles, a dark tabby pelt, piercing green eyes, and, as George had told him, so many scars that it seemed nearly half his body had been ripped up at one point.

This was Hammer, then.

He was watching Redthorn with a guarded expression, claws sheathed, for now, but his eyes were like tiny chips as he glared down at the approaching cats. “You are not one of us,” he grunted down as Redthorn and George approached his spot. “What are you doing here, George? And who is this?”

George opened his mouth to speak, but Redthorn stepped forward, cutting him off. “I’m Redthorn. I was once a proud warrior of Windclan.”

Hammer’s eyes widened for a moment. “A clan cat? I’ve heard tales of your kind.”

Redthorn’s tail twitched behind him. If he was going to start asking him stupid questions about if he ate bones or not then Redthorn was prepared to just turn around and leave or rip him right off of his pedestal. “I’ve heard. But I came to speak with you. Alone.”

The cats around him snickered. He could feel the oppressive air thicken as some of them slunk closer around. Hammer’s expression twisted into amusement. “Of course you have. But I see that look in your eye. I’ve met a lot of different cats over the seasons. A lot of different kinds of characters. Some of them are like George here - innocent, earnest, and honest. We don’t mind if they’re slinking around the borders of our territory. But then there’s others - like you. I can spot a killed from a mile away.”

Redthorn scoffed. “If you’ve heard of the clans, then you know that we kill to survive. We destroy threats to the clan before they can harm us. We kill our prey when we hunt. When rogues attack, we drive them off or kill them if they don’t leave. It’s part of our life.”

“Sure. But there’s a difference between killing in self-defense and killing in cold blood. Those that are forced to take a life because to not would mean their own demise have a haunted gleam in their eyes. I don’t see that in yours, Redthorn.” Hammer’s expression darkened and hardened. The cats around Redthorn drew closer. “Who did you kill?”

Redthorn’s eyes narrowed. Well...he certainly knew how to read a cat. Perhaps the old Redthorn would have been intimidated by a guy like that, who could just take a single glance at him from many tail-lengths above and tell him exactly what kind of person he was. But now, a smile began to spread across his expression.

That smile turned into a grin, then a chuckle, then a loud, maddening burst of laughter. “Oh, you are good!” he spoke between chuckles. “But you can’t think that I’ll spill my whole life story to you in front of everyone! Or even to you at all! It doesn’t matter who I killed - I did it for my clan and I don’t regret anything. I’m sure you’ve killed as well, for reasons other than saving yourself.”

He bared his teeth in a feral grin when Hammer didn’t respond. “I came to speak to you alone, but I can speak in front of everyone, if you’d prefer.”

The cats around him had stopped, seemingly surprised by his sudden outburst. Redthorn whipped around, glancing at all the cats surrounding them. They were filthy, dirty, disgusting. And horribly thin. Many of them he could see the familiar hollowness of starvation in their eyes, the dulling of the irises that told with certainty that there wasn’t nearly enough food to go around.

The kind of eyes that Quailshade had while she slowly starved to death.

“Look at you all,” he hissed at the crowd before him. “You’re barely hanging on, right? Scrounging for scraps, fighting each other over every tiny lick of food. I’m here to offer you more than this life.”

The cats turned towards each other, blinking with surprise, as Redthorn turned back to Hammer, who was staring at him with a skeptical expression. “What are you talking about,” he growled.

“I come from the clans,” Redthorn continued, as if Hammer hadn’t said a word. “There, we do not have to beg for food, we don’t have to rummage through Twoleg trash for every single meal. No, we hunt under the light of Silverpelt and our food is warm and fresh and plentiful. Where I am from, you will not have to want for food.”

Hammer’s tail twitched. “You’re saying you want us to come back to the clans with you. Why?”

Redthorn glanced at George. The kittypet was staring at him with wide eyes and leaning in closer. He’d tried to poke the warrior for information about his life, but Redthorn hadn’t given. Well, he could have some of it now.

“The clan I come from,” he began, turning back to Hammer, “was once great. Noble. The strongest in the forest. But as time has gone on, they have fallen from grace. The newest leader is a weakling and a coward. He cast me out of the clan because I dared to try and make changes, to bring us back to our full glory. He has the rest of the clan fooled and brainwashed. Starclan, our warrior ancestors who watch us from the stars, have told me that I am destined to be the next leader, but I can’t do that when _he_ is in charge. Not while the clan follows his cursed lead blindly.”

Hammer opened his mouth to say something, but Redthorn was turning away, to address the other cats instead. “If you come with me, put yourself under my direction, and help me take Windclan back, then you will all have a place as warriors among our ranks. All the food you could ever eat. All the freedom you could ever need. That is what I am offering for this small favor.”

He turned back to Hammer and forced himself to give a slight incline of his head. “Of course, I would make you my deputy, if you would accept. From what George has told me, you have many qualities that would make a fine leader to succeed me.”

He at last went quiet and waited for Hammer’s reply. The rogue looked thoroughly shocked by the info dump Redthorn had just laid on him. His tail was swishing across the green Twoleg thing behind him, eyes glancing over the surrounding cats. 

Curious, Redthorn found himself glancing in his peripheral vision to gauge their reactions too. They were glancing at each other with a mixture of different emotions. Some skeptical, others hopeful, a couple were staring at Redthorn with obvious distrust and hatred, but others had their eyes wide open with awe and excitement. It seemed his words were having an impact.

“Redthorn,” Hammer started as the warrior turned back up to face him. “I am not like other rogues. I protect these cats. I do what I can to keep them safe and alive. They are to me what a clan is to you. And you are suggesting that I dissolve this bond and hand them over to you? Just like that?”

“What’s more important? Your place as a leader or their wellbeing? I’m offering you a better life.”

Hammer’s lip curled. “I don’t trust you. You are a stranger here. We’ve never seen the likes of the clans wandering these streets and we don’t even know if they’re real or if you’re just playing off of the same nursery tales we all heard. Even if it was true, I don’t know if what you’re saying about your clan is true or not.”

He paused, those chips of mint-green staring intensely at Redthorn. “I see ambition in your eyes, burning hot and nearly out of control. You’ll do anything to take your clan back, won’t you? Even sacrifice all of us to get there? How many cats will have to die before you’re satisfied?” He shook his head. “I cannot trust a cat like that.”

Redthorn felt a spark ignite in his chest. How dare he...this mongrel! Refusing an offer like that, an incredible chance that he was giving him, right here, right now! _Starclan, why won’t you make this easier? Haven’t I been through enough trouble already?_

“You’re welcome to stay in the city, and by the group, but find your own food. I’m sure a clan cat can hunt for themselves.”

It was a clear dismissal that sent and incredible amount of rage soaring through Redthorn’s veins. He wasn’t going to be just shoved to the side like this! He was Redthorn, the greatest warrior in all the clans, had-picked by Starclan to carry out their will and become the greatest leader Windclan has ever seen! He’d killed a leader with his own claws, all nine lives gone in an instant. He’d broken Windclan all by himself, even if he was blocked from repairing it the way it needed to be fixed.

But as he stared up at Hammer, who was turning away from him now, to jump up on the wall behind the Twoleg thing, and cats crowded around him to herd him out of the alleyway, he felt utterly powerless.


	18. Chapter 18

Every day seemed like claws raking through his head. The time spent here, wasting away, barely surviving on the pitiful food offerings of the Twolegplace, were beginning to drive Redthorn mad. He was a warrior, for Starclan’s sake, not some pitiful kittypet like George! And speaking of that absolutely insufferable pest, the little black and white cat would constantly visit him and follow him around, even when Redthorn threatened to slice him open.

Apparently he was “cool” and kept him safe, as long as he stuck near him.

It was a little confusing - Redthorn hadn’t felt like he was in danger for very long when hanging by Hammer’s group. After all, his cats were skin and bones and many looked like they hadn’t raised a single claw in their life. They didn’t hiss at him on the street or feel very intimidating. Even the heavy pressure he’d first noticed in the alleyway had seemed to ease off by the time he left.

But as he took a second look at the cats of Hammer’s group, he realized that, perhaps to someone like George, who was smaller, weaker, and well-fed, they were dangerous, feral creatures that wouldn’t hesitate to rip open a throat if they threatened their food.

Redthorn was smart enough to keep away from the food stores that Hammer had claimed as his. He figured out which areas of Twolegplace were off limits (thanks to George’s helpful direction) and stayed far away. It was hard, way harder then hunting, but he scraped by.

Surprisingly, as the days passed, some of the rogues he’d seen in the alleyway visited the place that he’d taken up residence, leaving behind gifts of food or trinkets. It wasn’t much, but Redthorn learned quite quickly that literally anything given away was more then precious and he accepted them graciously.

On one such day, Redthorn was sleeping in the rubber tire he grugingly called a nest when a squeaky voice whispered in his ear.

“Hey, hey boss!”

Redthorn raised his head at George’s voice. That was a really weird name to call him, but he’d given up trying to get the kittypet to stop. “What?” he growled as the tom pranced back.

“Some of Hammer’s cats are here to see you!”

Instantly, Redthorn’s eyes opened fully and his body woke up. He lifted himself from the tire and stepped outside, stretching as he did (partially to show off the muscles that he did not neglect to keep in shape) as he faced the three cats that were waiting for him.

Two tom cats - one a bluish-gray, the other a dark gray, and a sandy brown she-cat. He tried to think back to if he’d seen them in the alleyway, but so many of those damn cats looked alike and they were all so filthy that he could barely tell the difference anyways.

Still, he sat himself down and nodded. “What can I do for you?”

“We came to talk to you about your offer to Hammer?” The gray cat spoke up. “Uh, I’m Stormy. The brown is Savannah and the blue is, uh, Blue. Were you serious about the forest being filled with food and all?”

Redthorn blinked. _Ah. They came without his permission then._ He could use this.

He nodded, solemnly, readying his act. “Yes. It’s a beautiful land. There’s four clans spread around a great lake and each lives in territories that best suit their hunting styles. The clan I come from, Windclan, we live out on the open moors. No trees to close us in, no rivers to wade through, nothing but the earth beneath our feet, the tall grass around us, and the sky above our heads.” He let out a sigh. “I miss it more than anything.”

Blue and Savannah shared a glance. “Is hunting hard?” he piped up.

The question sent a surge of disgust rolling through his veins. Of course hunting was difficult but a warrior that did not work for his food did not deserve to eat at all! But Redthorn knew that he was going to have to play it nice. Get them on his side. So he shook his head. “Maybe when you start, but once you learn, it’s as easy as breathing.”

It wasn’t _truly_ a lie - hunting was built into his system at this point. But to a twolegplace cat like Blue, it would probably be like trying to walk on two legs.

The cats glanced at each other, glittering expressions on their faces. “We’d like to see it,” Savannah whispered to Redthorn. “Living in Twolegplace is very difficult. We want a better life.”

Redthorn nodded, trying to make himself look understanding. “Yes, I can understand that, but Hammer turned down my offer. He doesn’t want to put his own cats under anyone else.” He let a slightly bitter tone slip into his sentence and Stormy shifted uncomfortably.

“Listen, Redthorn,” Stormy mumbled. “We don’t know you that well. At all, really, but we don’t really like Hammer that much. He’s way too clingy and hoards a lot of food for himself, claiming that it’s so that he can protect us better.”

“But if that were true,” Savannah put in, “then my brother wouldn’t have been killed by some strays. He wasn’t there to protect him - what’s to say he won’t be there to protect us?”

“You said a clan protects each other, right? Do they live and die for each other, live equally?” Blue asked in a small voice.

Excitement rippled underneath Redthorn’s fur. He couldn’t ask for a better situation at the moment. “Yes. A clan’s strength comes from the bonds they share with each other. Loyalty is more important than anything else.”

The three cats glanced at each other with hopeful expressions and dipped their heads to Redthorn. “Thank you,” Stormy purred. “We’ll stand by you, if you’ll have us. We’ll follow you back to the clans and do what we can to help you take back Windclan.”

George let out a squeak of excitement and, honestly, Redthorn was a second away from letting out a joyous sound as well. “Thank you. I don’t know what I can do to make it up to you besides promise you a place in Windclan once this is all over. But…” He paused, glancing over them and at George. “Four cats won’t be enough. If there’s anyone else that is considering leaving the Twolegpl - er, city, then bring them to me.”

Stormy nodded. “You can count on us, Redthorn!” He turned and beckoned with his tail, leading Blue and Savannah away down the alleyway, a small bounce in their step.

Redthorn watched them go and turned down to look at George. “Why don’t you go and help them? I’m sure you know some cats that might be interested in leaving.”

George blinked at him with surprise but then his eyes lit up. “Yeah, sure!” He turned and bounded away in the other direction, leaving Redthorn alone in the alley.

And that’s when he let go.

Redthorn staggered forward, a small gasping giggle breaking free from his jaws. This was going well, better than he’d thought! He was excited, so excited, _too_ excited. The prospect of another fight was getting into his bloodstream and heating up his every nerve. There was nothing to kill here, no rabbits or birds to catch. The rats were too good at avoiding the alley cats. He hadn’t had a taste of blood for too long it was going to drive him insane.

He needed to flex his claws. He needed a _fight_ he needed to go back and finish what he started because all he could think about is tearing into Specklestar’s throat, ripping out fur and flesh and watching blood spill against the ground and he’d do it over and over and over until his corpse was nothing but mangled fur and broken bones and Redthorn would stand above him, victorious. Glorious. _Redstar._

He threw his head back to look at the sky. It was still daylight, but he knew the stars were there. Starclan was watching him, approving of his actions, surely. “I’m doing it for you, Quailshade,” he mumbled. “All for you! And for me! I know it’s what you want, right? I need to be leader! Make Windclan my own! Haha, yeah, that’s all that’s important right now!”

He shivered on the spot, imagining, for a second, that a star was shooting across the sky. It was such a real vision, so powerful in his head that his eyes followed an invisible path and he bared his teeth in a wild grin. Oh, how right he was! They were watching him, they were protecting him and _blessing_ him! All this death, all this blood and rebellion...it was Starclan’s will!

His grin got wider, laughter bubbling up in his throat. He wheezed for a moment before it escalated into a fit of mad howling. Oh, if Adderstar could see him now! The fool watching from the Dark Forest, stewing in all the sins he committed against his own clan! Of, if only Specklestar could see him in this moment, if only Snaketail could see the allies he’d gathered!

“YOU’RE WATCHING, RIGHT QUAILSHADE?” He roared to the skies before descending once again into laughter. He laughed so hard his chest began to hurt and he eventually broke off, gasping for breath, stomach still heaving with mirth. “I’m gonna...take the place...that I deserve!”

His pupils were as small as pinpricks. His grin was wide and full of malice. Drool dripped from his chin as he heaved in the alleyway, imaging the bodies and blood of his enemies strewn before him. Adderstar’s mangled body, begging for death, his pitiful voice ringing in Redthorn’s ear. Berrytail’s expression as Redthorn ripped out his throat, confused and horrified, filled with hurt and betrayal. The terror that never left Crimsonstripe’s face, even after Redthorn had ended his life.

There would be more. Oh yes, there would be so many more.

Redthorn couldn’t wait to get started.


	19. Chapter 19

In the following days, more and more cats came to see Redthorn in groups no more than three or four. Stormy, Blue, and Savannah, along with help from George, had really spread word about him well. From what he could tell, many of the cats were hesitant to go against Hammer directly - he was strong and some were gullible enough to trust him, but they would rather leave and find a new life then suffer in Twolegplace under him. He wasn’t cruel to his own cats, but life in the city was simply too difficult for so many cats. Redthorn made it a point to learn each and every one of their names - after all, if they were going to trust him, then they needed to know that he cared about them more than Hammer.

Not that he did.

George informed him some days later that he had almost 20 street cats that had pledged their allegiance to him. It took him a moment to realize that he could easily start his _own_ clan with that many followers. It would probably be easier then taking Windclan back…

No. Starclan had decreed that he would be the leader of _Windclan_, not whatever other clan he decided to form on his own time. And besides, it wasn’t the same - they would never be a true clan, not filled with rogues.

There, at last, came a day that Redthorn made the decision - they were going to leave. He had eventually found an older she-cat names Tawn that had once wandered far enough from Twolegplace that she’d seen a vast lake. Redthorn had his directions back to the clan, at last, and there was no longer any reason to stay here.

He had George spread the word - be ready, be fed, and be prepared to take the journey back to the clans at dawn the next day. Cats he passed on the street that he’d come to know as his allies gave him knowing glances and a few tried to hook him in conversation. He always obliged, however much he hated socializing with such disgusting, lowly rogues. Their wonder of what his home was like was so childish and frustrating that sometimes he just wanted to rip out their throats. But no...there would be time for that later.

At dawn the next morning, Redthorn woke to the usual collection of gifts - mostly of food this time, and eagerly ate his fill, handing what scraps were left over to George. “You sure you want to come with us?” He asked as the black and white tom licked up what remained of his meal. “I know you like to leave your Twoleg but if you come with us, you’ll never go back.”

George paused and looked up at Redthorn with wide eyes. “Of course I’m sure! You’ve inspired me so much, Redthorn. I’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity to serve under you!”

Redthorn chuckled, but internally rolled his eyes. Why did he even keep this idiot around with him? “I’m honored.” _As if._

He began to stretch his limbs, looking forward to finally using them to walk on grass once again as shadows appeared in the alleyway. He turned to look, about to welcome his allies, when he froze.

It was hard to see in the mist of the morning, but there was no mistaking that burly figure and the green eyes that seemed to glow against his dark pelt. Hammer.

And there were cats with him. A lot of cats. And their faces were twisted into snarls.

Redthorn stood up taller, tail whipping around to wack George to attention. “Wha?” He asked, mouth full of food when he choked as he realized what was happening.

“Redthorn,” Hammer growled. “Do you think I’m blind? Deaf? I know what you’ve been doing to my cats lately. Turning them against me. Against this place.”

“Oh, have I?” Redthorn drawled. “Why haven’t you stopped me?”

“Because I didn’t think anything would come of it. I don’t control the cats that live here but you...you’re going to lead them to their deaths. You’re going to take away nearly half of my forces. I can’t let _that_ happen.”

“Your _forces?_” Redthorn scoffed. “I thought you didn’t control them.” In the corner of his eye, he saw shadows shifting. A blueish-gray pelt came into view. They were coming. “I only offered them what I offered to you - follow me back to the clans, help me take my rightful place as leader, and they would be able to live a better life on the moors and in the forest.”

Hammer snarled. “You’re a liar! And I won’t let a liar run free with my cats under his control!” He flicked his tail and the cats surged forward.

Redthorn bared his teeth, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Yes! This is what he’d been waiting for.

The haze of battle descended almost immediately as he leaped forward, sinking his claws into the cat that got to him first.

The alleyway exploded into chaos as Redthorn’s followers, who’d been creeping up behind him, collided with those of Hammer’s. Screeching and yowling filled the street as cat fell upon cat and claws dug into flesh.

It was utter insanity, the limited space forcing them all to fight on top of each other. And nobody knew how to fight - it was all brute force and aimless slashing for them. For Redthorn, however, he leaped from cat to cat, biting and scratching and kicking, blood flying through the air as he whirled through the battle like a tornado. Many of the rogues fell to his claws, but he held back as much as he could, despite the roar of battle threatening to completely overwhelm him.

He didn’t want to kill anyone. At least not yet. Because every cat still living was still a potential ally.

Save for one.

It seemed to go on forever - each cat that staggered away, injured, was replaced by another that Redthorn batted away with minimal effort, only to be replaced by two more. He snarled with frustration. Where had Hammer gone?

Eventually, however, the dark pelt came into view. He was locked in battle with Stormy who was pinned to the ground and struggling with all his strength to escape. Letting out a battle cry, Redthorn leaped forward and landed squarely on his shoulders.

Hammer whipped around and tried to shake him off, but Redthorn was already leaping off of his back, hitting the ground and shooting forward, claws stretched forward as he latched onto the hard muscles of his shoulder. Hammer roared and raised a huge paw, intending on bringing it down on Redthorn’s head and smash him to the ground, but, once again, the warrior was way too fast.

He was already leaping off of him, dashing around to his other side, where he lunged forward, this time latching onto the side of his neck, locking his jaws into fur and skin, and kicking out to knock Hammer’s legs out from under him.

The rogue fell with a surprised yowl and Redthorn bore down on him, biting down hard and sinking his claws into Hammer’s chest. He felt a sting as the leader’s wildly slashing claws ripped out the fur on his shoulders and a particularly painful cut as Hammer’s paw came into view and slashed down across his face. Blood filled his vision and he closed his left eye, but he didn’t relent, biting down harder and harder and beginning to rip with his claws.

A second later, Hammer choked as Redthorn’s claws at last pierced his throat. There was a gurgling sound as blood spurted from the wound, spraying onto Redthorn’s face, and that was his cue to finally let go of the tom cat.

In the midst of their fight, Redthorn hadn’t realized that the battle around them had grown quiet. Cats had stopped fighting to gaze at the brutal display of force with awe and terror. Even some of his own allies looked worried about what the warrior had just done.

But Redthorn didn’t care, glaring down at Hammer as he writhed on the ground, a terrible wound opened on the side of his neck and a slash across his throat. Blood was spilling and pooling on the ground beneath him and his jaws were open, bubbles of blood rising and popping as he tried to speak. All that came out, though, was a strangled sound before his head thudded to the ground and his body went still.

The silence was suddenly deafening, the eyes of the city cats staring at Redthron with mixed emotions of horror and reverence while he stood over Hammer’s body, breathing heavily, eyes gleaming with excitement. His tongue swiped across his jowels, tasting the salty, warm blood of his enemies still thick on his chin. That had been _wonderful_ and he found himself at last partially sated for his thirst for battle. It wasn’t the same as fighting the clans...but now the itch was more bearable. He could wait until they returned.

He raised his head and looked around at the rogue cats, tail flicking behind him. “Come with me,” he snarled, “and you will be strong. You will never hunger again. I’ll mold you into a proper clan and you will stand above all others - undefeatable.”

To his immense surprise, there was an uproar - cats yowling their approval, standing and crying out with savage voices, turning and chattering excitedly with each other. Redthorn blinked and raised his head, a dark smile turning his expression.

He stepped forward, the crowd parting, the cats behind him eagerly surging forward. They would leave - now. Whatever injuries they had could be healed on the road. Redthorn wasn’t going to wait another minute. It was time to go home - and bring the change he desired whether Windclan was ready or not.


	20. Chapter 20

Redthorn knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. There were a lot of cats following him - more than he’d anticipated. He wagered that Windclan had, maybe, 10 warriors plus Specklestar and Snaketail. And there were currently more than 40 cats following him out of Twolegplace. 

Granted, very few of them had any significant battle training - he’d seen many of them fighting in the alleyway and they’d relied almost exclusively on viciously brute force instead of speed or skill. If they fought one on one with a warrior, they’d surely lose. Perhaps the warrior would get some nasty injuries, but there’s no way an untrained rogue would be able to match a proper warrior.

But there were a lot of them, and they wouldn’t be fighting warriors alone. With this many at his back, Redthorn knew that Windclan didn’t stand a chance at all.

But on the other hand, that meant taking forty cats all the way back to the clans. Some of the rogues knew which direction the clans were in (or, at the very least, the general direction) but they still needed to be mobile and find a way to feed everyone. The name of this game was speed. The faster they got back to the clans, the better.

There was another problem, though. Very few of the rogues knew how to hunt. Those that did only knew how to catch rats, not rabbits and squirrels. So Redthorn had to take an entire day teaching them all to hunt, having them pass the skills along so that it wouldn’t take as much time. They took the opportunity to heal their wounds as best they could. He knew enough basic herb knowledge to get the worst treated.

They travelled for many days, far longer than it had taken Redthorn to get from the clans to the Twolegplace. Every day they spent travelling was another day of anxious excitement itching at his skin, growing more irritated every day they were away from Windclan. He wanted to get back. He needed to get back. Fight. Kill. Take control. Lead, as he was meant to do from the start.

He didn’t care if all the rogues following him were slaughtered. All he needed...was for Specklestar to die.

On the evening of the seventh day of travelling, the waning moon glistening above his head, familiar scents began to touch Redthorn’s senses. It smelled like horses and open grass. Granted, they were travelling on an open moor and climbing over hills, but this smelled like _home._ He suddenly bounded ahead, ignoring George’s questioning meow, and crested over the top of the hill.

His breath caught in his throat. There it was - the lake. Spread across in all its glory, black as a night without stars.

He was frozen to the spot, breath slowly beginning to race in his chest. He was here, finally here. After all of the waiting he’d done in that fucking _city_, all the travelling and yearning to be back, here he was. His eyes slowly travelled across the territories, resting on the open moors stretching out to his right. Icy-eyes narrowed. It looked so peaceful from up here.

_Not for long._

He wasn’t going to wait. He turned around, eyeing all of the rogues behind him. They’d stopped at the foot of the hill, meowing amongst each other, some of them settling down, as if this was where they were stopping tonight. But that was ridiculous - the clan was _right there_. Why would Redthorn let them rest now?

With a hiss he bounded down to the group. “What are you doing?” he asked the cats that had flopped into the grass, trying to keep a snarl out of his voice. They looked up. “Oh...we aren’t stopping?”

“No,” Redthorn replied evenly. “We’re almost there. The clans are just over the hill.”

That got the attention of many of the rogues. Some of them looked excited and murmuring broke out but others stared skeptically at Redthorn. “Wait…” one of the braver ones started, “you mean we’re going to go fight right now? While we’re tired? But we’ve been travelling the whole day!”

Redthorn whipped around, unable to stop the spark of rage that lit up in his chest. How DARE these flea-bitten mongrels talk back to him? Question him?! His eyes fell on an older gray cat with white hairs littering his muzzle. He approached him, standing tall and looming over him.. He seemed to shrink under his blazing eyes.

“If you’d like,” he snarled, “you can stay here and fend for yourself. I’m going to Windclan tonight no matter what - whoever follows me will have a place. Whoever stays can go crawling back to Twoleg place for all I care. But you will not be let into our territory.”

The gray cat’s eyes widened and he looked down. “S-sorry, Redthorn. I just thought-”

“NO,” he snapped, “you were NOT thinking. A warrior must overcome the challenges in front of him. If you want to succeed in Windclan, you will have to go beyond the limits your body has set for you.”

He turned around to the rest of the cats, tail lashing behind him. Perhaps now would be a good time for an inspirational speech, to get them motivated enough to fight. Or just something to explain off his eagerness to get going. “We’re tired, yes, but so is the clan - they’ve been training and hunting and patrolling all day and we’ve only been walking. We need to strike now, while they’re weak. We’ll overwhelm them - there’s far more of us then there are of them. Besides, the longer we stay here, the more risk that we’re detected.”

His eyes raked over to the rogues. “I’ve led you this far. I’ve fed you on our journey. You’ve eaten better in the last seven days than you’ve ever eaten in your entire life! Trust me one more time and everything I’ve offered will finally be given to you.”

Cries rose up across the cats, silenced quickly by Redthorn raising his tail for silence, although a feral pleasure bubbled up in his chest. “Quiet. We don’t want anyone to know we’re coming.”

He turned and padded up the hill some ways, enough to look over at Windclan’s territory. He was silent for a moment before he raised his tail. “Follow me. We’ll go as one.”

Redthorn suddenly set off over the hill, the rogue cats surging forward behind him, stifling their excited murmuring, vigor renewed

***

Specklestar was sitting on the Tallrock, watching and waiting for the moonhigh patrol to finally return. He looked up at the waning moon, slowly closing his eyes. The air in Windclan was...lighter. Peaceful, almost. The last few seasons had been harsh to their clan - too much change, too much blood. But now that Adderstar...or, Adderheart now, was deposed of his leadership and Redthorn was gone, things were at last settling into normalcy.

For a moment, the leader thought back to the bloodthirsty warrior. He’d trained him well - in hunting, fighting, and being a good warrior. And he’d been just like Specklestar had been as a warrior as well. Eager, loyal, ready to serve his clanmates above all others. Just a really, really good fighter. He’d believed in him and, perhaps, if he’d stayed that way, Specklestar would not have hesitated to make him deputy.

But he didn’t. After Quailshade and Icefeather had passed, something in Redthorn had changed. It wasn’t too obvious, at least not at first, but Specklestar knew his apprentice well. He grew darker, obsessed with revenge, more thirsty for a good fight than before. There was nothing wrong with enjoying battle - they were warriors, after all, but not when it was unnecessary. He’d seen Redthorn’s instability as clear as day. There was no way he could have allowed him the chance to be leader after him.

He just never could have imagined he would have taken it _this_ far.

“Specklestar?”

The leader flinched, jerking out of his thoughts as Snaketail approached. Behind him were the moonhigh patrol, jaws stretched in yawns, breaking off to return to their dens.

Specklestar rose to his paws. “Anything to report?”

Snaketail shook his head. “No. The territory is quiet tonight. Goosebreeze is on guard duty and promised to wake up the dawn patrol when it’s time.”

Specklestar nodded and stretched out his limbs. “Good to hear. Go on and get some rest.”

The deputy dipped his head and turned around to walk away. Specklestar shook out his pelt as he leaped down from the Tall Rock. Yeah...things were good. He still mourned for Redthorn, for the leader he could have been, but his darkness was gone now. And, with it, the dark times for Windclan. They were slowly reclaiming the territory they’d lost. They were mending their relationship with Thunderclan, slowly but surely. Thornstar had passed and their new leader, Applestar, was far more willing to open peace between their clans.

He sighed, turning to return to his den. He could rest easy tonight.

“Hey...what’s that sound?”

Specklestar paused and looked back. Snaketail was in the middle of camp, standing tall, ears erect and listening. He turned back to look at the leader, confused. “It sounds like thunder.”

He tried to listen as well, turning his ears forward. At first, there was only silence, but then there was a rumbling. Like thunder, as Snaketail had suggested, growing louder with each second. Thunder didn’t get louder.

Specklestar jerked forward, eyes widening with horror. “WINDCLAN,” he shouted out into the empty camp.

At that moment, the entrance to camp exploded.


	21. Chapter 21

Across the dark moors, Redthorn raced with the rogues from Twolegplace streaming behind him. Any murmuring that tried to rise up was quickly extinguished by small hisses from the more sensible cats. George kept pace with Redthorn, eyes gleaming with equal parts fear and excitement. Behind him, Blue, Stormy, and Savannah kept up as best they could, determined but anxious.

And all of Hammer’s followers - most of them, at least, followed Redthorn with steeled eyes, their muscles tense and ready, claws itching to take their new home.

But Redthorn couldn’t care less. They were just pawns. Disposable toy soldiers that would live and die for him. In fact, he hated them. Because they were scum, dirty Twoleg-loving mongrels and he cursed Specklestar for forcing him to take such despicable means to fulfill his prophecy.

It was too late for regrets now, though, although he wouldn’t have had any anyways. This was what he was meant to do - take Windclan back under control. Rule it as their rightful leader. Even if he had to dip beneath the standards of warriors. He would do anything.

Anything to kill Specklestar and that traitor Snaketail. His hatred for both of them knew no bounds.

The scent of the camp was growing stronger by the second. Redthorn’s paws beat faster against the ground in his hast. He no longer cared about being quiet. There was no way to hide their scent, after all, nor their running paws against the ground. Not that he cared, anyways. He’d rather barge in then sneak up and assassinate his targets. No, he wanted a fight. Blood. Death. Carnage. He wanted those traitors to _suffer_.

He flicked his tail as he turned, paws falling onto a familiar path. A path he hadn’t traveled in what felt like an eternity. Seasons upon seasons of Windclan warriors had pounded down the path to the camp and now he and his rogues were falling into step. The camp entrance came into view.

Redthorn snarled. “Kill them. If they run, let them, but Snaketail and Specklestar are mine!”

Something shifted ahead. A gray pelted warrior - scrawny and familiar. Goosebreeze’s eyes opened with shock and he opened his mouth to howl, but he wasn’t fast enough as Savannah suddenly shot forward, tackling him over and clamping her paws down on his muzzle.

Redthorn didn’t pay them any heed, pushing past and breaking through the entrance.

He heard a yowl just as he leaped through the barrier and returned it with a roar. The cats behind him took it as a battle cry and followed up with their own shrieks and howls. As soon as the camp grounds came into view, a savage pleasure lit up on Redthorn’s face. Ah...there they were - Specklestar and Snaketail, standing and watching with horror as their nightmare returned back to life with an army behind him.

With a savage cry, he raced forward, a toothy, unhinged grin twisting his features. “SPECKLESTAR!” he yowled as he lunged forward, claws outstretched. Snaketail’s features contorted in fury as he responded to the challenge, barrelling forward to stop Redthorn in his path.

That was fine. If Snaketail wanted to die first, then he would.

The two cats tumbled away, hissing and spitting, clawing furiously in a pile of rage. Around them the camp exploded into action. It was the alleyway all over again, all chaos and confusion, but this time, one of the sides was far outnumbered. Warriors came running out of their dens only to be beset by three or four rogues each, queens blocked the entrance to the nursery, facing off against a group that they couldn’t hope to face. Apprentices cried out in fear as they desperately tried to avoid the brutal, unforgiving attacks of the savage Twolegplace cats.

It was utter chaos, screaming rising to the sky as cat fell upon cat and blood went flying under the waning moon and the cold, twinkling stars.

Redthorn was locked in furious combat with Snaketail, his old apprentice doing everything he could to hold his own against the warrior. It seemed, Redthorn realized with fury, that he’d taught the warrior a little too well. Every attack he threw at him was countered or dodged. He knew Redthorn’s techniques and used them right back against him. Perhaps if Snaketail had been in a normal state of mind, Redthorn would have been able to best him easily. Warriors were so weak, so afraid to kill, even if their opponent was ready to kill them right back. But the same hatred Redthorn held for Snaketail, the deputy threw right back into the fight. Slashes came viciously, blows fell near vital spots. They fought with all their strength, kicking and scratching and wrestling furiously. They were almost evenly matched.

Almost.

The sting of wounds was already beginning to crawl up Redthorn’s body. He could feel trickles of blood falling down his fur, blending into the dark crimson pelt and dripping onto the ground. But he was at last beginning to overpower Snaketail. He slashed at the deputy, who at finally switched almost exclusively to defense, multiple slashes running over his body and a particularly nasty scratch dripping blood into his face.

Redthorn lunged forward, feinting to the left and Snaketail fell for it. When he flinched the opposite way, he went right where Redthorn wanted him to go and was struck by a heavy blow to the side of the head.

The deputy gasped and tumbled to the ground, stunned, and that was all Redthorn needed to finally pin him down and latch onto his neck.

Savage pleasure made his already fast-beating heart quicken to an unnatural pace. This was it. He had been dreaming of this, fantasizing about finally killing him, finally ending this fucking mangepelt of an apprentice! But just as he was about to bite down, he felt teeth on the back of his scruff bury into his fur and wrench him off.

Surprised, Redthorn let go, crying out as he was thrown back, tumbling onto the ground. As soon as he gained a bit of balance and whipped around to go back to Snaketail, but the deputy was already getting overwhelmed again by the rogues. Instead, an achingly familiar gray-brown pelt stood in his way, bluish eyes blazing with anger.

But Redthorn didn’t see his daughter standing there. All he saw was another warrior that had gotten in the way. He snarled and crouched low to the ground. Everything was just a red blur. He had to get back to Snaketail. He had to be the one to kill him! Kill him! Tear him up! Then rip Specklestar open from throat to tail!

With a scream of fury he lunged forward. Heatherbreeze, apparently, hadn’t been expecting Redthorn to attack just like that and hesitated. Perhaps she thought that he would show mercy because of their shared blood. Perhaps she still held reserves for trying to kill her father. She was wrong and that was her mistake.

Her father was on her before she could react, yowling as she fell, lashing out to try and stop him. One of her claws dug into Redthorn’s shoulder and opened a long, brutal wound over his pelt, but he barely felt the pain, his blood was running so hot. He didn’t care. No matter how many wounds he got, Starclan would heal them. He was their chosen! He was meant to be leader and he would take that place!

_It’s what I deserve!!_

He said this to himself, chanted it in his head over and over as he dug deep into Heatherbreeze’s body. It wasn’t a clean death. It wasn’t even a quick one. She screamed as his claws tore savagely into her stomach, as he ripped away fur and skin and sinew until the white of her bones were showing through. His claws eventually dug so deep that they ripped open her very heart.

She was dead long before he finally stopped brutalizing her body.

Without another thought towards her, he shoved the carcass aside and whipped around. _Where’s Snaketail? Where’s Specklestar?!_

He couldn’t see them. They weren’t here. No, there was someone there with a brown tabby pelt, fighting off Blue and some other cat Redthorn didn’t recognize. Was that him?

He snarled and lunged forward, leaping squarely onto the cat’s back. A single cry, however, revealed it to be someone else. Ah...that was Grassleap. Snaketail’s mate.

Good enough.

He leaned down, jaws closing tight around the back of her neck, ripping to the side until there was a sharp crack and her body went limp. Redthorn released her and turned back to look into the mass of screaming cats, eyes grazing over Blue’s terrified face.

“R-Redthorn?” He asked hesitantly, but the warrior wasn’t listening, pushing past him to find his next opponent. “R-Redthorn, wait...I don’t...why did you just kill her? She was ready to run! Redthorn, wait!!”

He felt something prick his tail and, instinctively, he turned around. Blue had his claw outstretched, eyes wide with terror, multiple wounds covering his body. “P-please, man...just...why are we killing them? Aren’t they supposed to be our clanmates? You know, when we take the clan!”

Redthorn’s eyes blew wide. Was this moron...this fox-brained, flea-bitten, maggot-eating _idiot_ questioning him? After everything he’d done, after all the training he’d given him, the opportunities, the…

No. You know what? It didn’t matter.

If he was going to question him, then he was going to die.

And Redthorn did just that, striking out suddenly, his claws digging into Blue’s throat and ripping out a chunk of his flesh.

The rogue’s eyes widened and he choked, reeling back, but Redthorn didn’t bother watching him drop. He merely shoved on, searching for his next opponent when a heavy weight fell on his back.

There was a hiss in his ear, a familiar deep voice snarling with all the hatred Redthorn felt within. “How dare you come back here, Redthorn?”

Redthorn turned his head back, spitting, glaring into Badgerpelt’s face. Him again. He’d stopped him last time too. Perhaps once they’d been friends, but not anymore. Nobody here was Redthorn’s friend - all of them were enemies. All of them he hated with every fiber of his being. And Badgerpelt, apparently, was ready to be the next one to die.

But there was a problem. Redthorn pushed back against the heavy weight of the warrior, but he wasn’t giving. He only pushed harder, pressing Redthorn’s face into the ground, teeth bared to deliver the final blow. 

For the first time in a long time, Redthorn felt fear. Because Badgerpelt was stronger then him. Because he couldn’t escape, because this idiot that he hadn’t even given a single thought to was about to kill him!

_No no no no no this can’t end it can’t end like this no not this unworthy scum not this bastard let me kill him i’m going to kill him i’m GOING TO KILL HIM_

But the bite never came.

The weight on Redthorn’s back suddenly increased and he cried out as he suddenly found himself unable to breath. There was a strangled gasp above him before Badgerpelt’s weight suddenly slid off. As soon as he was free, Redthorn heaved in a gasp and scrambled to his feet, whipping around, hackles raised, ready to throw himself back into the fight.

However, he found himself faced with Badgerpelt’s body - unmoving on the ground, eyes glazed over, blood streaming from a wound around the back of his neck. George stood over him, panting, looking absolutely terrified and shell-shocked. His white and black fur was covered with splatters of blood and was puffed out with fear. He looked up and stared at Redthorn, speechless, as if looking for some kind of words of comfort, but the warrior was already turning away.

Badgerpelt was dead. That’s all that mattered.

How long had the battle gone on at this point? It felt like hours. The screaming of the warriors and the rogues had beaten so deep into his brain at this point that he didn’t even hear them. Instead, the camp was utterly silent, the chaos unravelling quietly around him. The bodies were beginning to pile up. Mostly rogues, either unconscious or dead, some limping away injured.

He could see Honeydawn doing her best to patch up some of the Windclan fighters, but Redthorn paid them no heed. They would live or die - as long as they didn’t keep getting in his way.

A flash of a gray pelt caught his eye and his gaze latched onto it. This one better be Specklestar. This one better be him! He’d waited too long. He wasn’t willing to wait a moment longer.

He lunged forward and fell upon the warrior, digging his claws into their shoulders as they fell. His lip curled with glee when they turned back to reveal the bright blue eyes and marked the leader - this time he wasn’t wrong.

Specklestar let them fall, rolling over on the grass to dislodge the warrior, but Redthorn was already a step ahead releasing the leaders pelt and jumping away, only to lunge forward again the instant his paws touched the ground. Specklestar was scrambling to his feet when Redthorn rammed into his side, pushing him further over. Claws lashed forward, carving wounds across Redthorn’s face and he retaliated with a sharp nip to his paw, sending a splatter of blood streaming across his face.

He grabbed the leader, pinning him to the ground, slashing at him with his claws and nipping forward. He was holding back, though - watching, waiting, because he knew Specklestar’s fighting style. He’d been his mentor, after all, and all the time he was waiting in Twolegplace, all the time he was travelling, he brought up every memory of their training. Figured out the best way to kill the leader.

He was going to try and throw him off in a moment. That’s what he’d taught him. And, just as Redthorn predicted, Specklestar suddenly pushed off of the ground. Redthorn dodged out of the way of the attack, unbalancing the leader suddenly and there! That was his chance!

Specklestar was off-balance. There was an opening now, one that Redthorn immediately exploited, shooting forward and grabbing onto the leader’s neck with his jaws. They went down, Specklestar letting out a cry as Redthorn at last pinned him to the ground, teeth buried in the side of his throat.

For a moment, they struggled until Specklestar finally went limp in defeat. But his eyes widened with surprise when the leader realized that he was still alive. Redthorn still had a grip on him, yes, but he wasn’t biting on anything vital yet.

And then he let go, his jaws still dangerously close to his throat. “Did you really think it was going to be that easy, Specklestar?” He hissed, voice quivering with excitement. “Did you really think I waited this long just to kill you that quickly?”

Specklestar looked up at the warrior, confused and horrified. Redthorn couldn’t even imagine what he looked like, his expression utterly destroyed by madness. Eyes stretched wide across his face and gleaning with a savage, feral excitement, every inch of his face matted with blood and viscera, gore dripping off of his fur - it wasn’t even clear if it was someone else’s blood or his own, considering the numerous wounds scattered across his skin. His jaws were twisted in a wide, monstrous grin, drool dripping out from his blood-stained teeth.

The monster within was now out for the world to see and Specklestar found himself utterly frozen beneath the powerful, terrifying energy radiating off of him. “You…” he whispered, mortified. “You’re a demon, Redthorn.”

The warrior laughed, a horrible, cackling sound filled with savage amusement. “A demon!!” He howled. “No, Specklestar. I’m Starclan’s chosen - they’ve decreed that I am to be the leader of Windclan! I saw it, I SAW IT! And you won’t stop me anymore, Specklestar! Not you or Snaketail! Not anyone in this fucking clan that thinks that can stop the winds of change!”

His claws began to dig into the leader’s fur and Specklestar suddenly found himself able to move again, writhing against the warrior, but his hold had become incredibly powerful. He couldn’t get free of Redthorn, who just kept digging his claws in, drawing out blood, sending pinpricks of pain across his body. Redthorn laughed and laughed, beginning to tear down, tear into him, rip open his skin, shred his fur and Specklestar screamed.

And for a moment, it was all over.

But then it wasn’t. A cry - a previously unheard one. A strong yowl, a battle shout and Redthorn was distracted for a moment, looking up. The entrance to the camp suddenly quivered and from the gorse tunnel, streams of fresh warriors emerged, jumping into the fray and falling upon the warriors around them. Redthorn’s eyes stretched wide as he recognized Applestar, the leader of Thunderclan, racing along with his clan and yowling out, immediately jumping forward to rip off the rogue that had a hold on Rabbitpelt.

_No, no no! Thunderclan?! We’re enemies! Thunderclan hates us, they were ready to kill us! This isn’t happening. I have to kill Specklestar now NOW!_

Pain suddenly exploded across his neck. Redthorn choked, splattering blood over the grass beside him. He looked down and watched as dark red blossomed over the lighter fur of his chest, Specklestar’s bloodied claws just leaving the wound that had suddenly been ripped open across his skin.

Redthorn screamed with rage, a stream of blood falling from his throat. He could still kill him!

He lunged forward towards the leader, concerned only with killing him. He didn’t care about the pain that was numbing his body, he didn’t care about the sudden fogginess in his head. He had to kill him! Kill him! KILL HIM!!

But before his teeth connected, a heavy weight slammed into his side. He was thrown off of Specklestar, tumbling into the grass, his blood splattering on the ground before him. He scrambled back to his feet, slipping over his paws, a white pelt standing between him and his prize.

“I told you, Redthorn,” Brightfang hissed. “You were going to pay for killing Mousewhisker.”

Redthorn snarled and started forward, but echoes of fear around him distracted him from his quarry. 

“Retreat!”

“Run away!”

“There’s too many of them!”

“Get out - we can’t beat them!”

“I don’t wanna die!”

He whipped around just in time to see the rogues, overwhelmed by Thunderclan’s sudden appearance, stream out of the camp entrance, covered in wounds and crying out as the warriors chased them away.

No! It wasn’t supposed to be like this! He was supposed to win! Starclan had told him! They’d told him!!

Redthorn snarled, but Brightfang wasn’t moving. He stood firmly between him and Specklestar, who was rising to his feet behind him. The remaining warriors that hadn’t gone with to chase out the rogues stayed as well, beginning to creep up around Redthorn.

He was outnumbered.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Snaketail, covered with blood, but still alive, eyes glimmering with defiance and anger. He was trembling, yes, and he looked like he was on the verge of collapse, but Redthorn hadn’t even managed to kill _him._

He glanced back. The entrance was behind him. He couldn’t die here. He couldn’t die ever! If he lived, then he had a chance! A chance to rebuild, to be leader again! He could gather the rest of the rogues and plan again. He could find new ones - there were plenty of rogues in the world that would follow him. He could turn the clans against each other! He could...he could…..

It didn’t matter. If he stayed here he was going to die. With one last snarl, he turned and shot through the entrance.

Behind him, he heard Specklestar’s rumbling voice. “Don’t. He won’t survive long. Let the crows have his body.”

Redthorn didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, stumbling out of the entrance and out into the territory, paws immediately taking him onto a path he’d ran many times before.

His vision was going in and out of focus and he found it hard to focus. His mind was fastened on running - surviving. His paws went mindlessly, the adrenaline slowly wearing off and the pain of his wounds finally taking over. It seemed like every inch of his skin had been torn apart, the blood loss getting to his head. The sudden silence of a world with battle was almost deafening.

He stumbled across the moor, panting, his breath getting harder and harder to catch. His paws caught on something and he stumbled forward, falling flat on his face, a pang going through his whole body and his vision whiting out for a moment as his wounded chest hit the ground. Once he had control of his body back, e glanced back, just able to see what he’d tripped on. It was matted, covered in blood, but definitely a cat. A dead one.

Black and white fur...chubby...his collar torn to shreds….

But Redthorn couldn’t care. He didn’t care that the only one that had been truly loyal to him was gone. All the time George had spent being his watcher, his faithful pawn, all the times he’d tried to be his friend, how he saved him from Badgerpelt...it didn’t matter. In the end, he died. He was useless.

Redthorn stumbled back to his feet, leaving behind George’s body as he forced himself forward. The hills began to slope and he grew weaker and weaker, but still he trucked on. Once he found the rogues, he could get one of them to heal him. He was sure they’d kept his lessons. They’d be waiting for him - surely they would.

He made it to the top of the hill - the same one that he’d once stood beneath, speaking to Quailshade about insignificant worries and useless guilt. The same one where he’d mourned her and where that traitor, Snaketail, had started him on this path. Where Starclan had chosen him, so long ago.

He gazed out across the open moors, looking for the telltale sign of his rogues, wherever they were. His allies, waiting for him surely.

But the moors were empty. Silent. Still under the waning moon. There was a flash of movement, but it was going in the opposite direction.

They weren’t waiting for him. They were all gone.

The realization crashed over Redthorn that he was back to square one. It stole all feeling from his body, ripped the breath from his lungs. Disbelief struck out the anger and he knew. He was alone. He’d _lost_.

He...he was…”No!”

He snarled out loud. No, he wasn’t going to give up, not after coming so far, not after getting so close! He’d just...he’d find new allies! He’d get more cats and change his strategy! He’d get back against Specklestar, get the vengeance he deserved!

But as soon as he took a step forward, his body failed him and he fell forward. Vision dimming and body numb, blood soaking the grass beneath him. His eyes looked up towards the sky, the moon glowing innocently among the stars. “Starclan…” he whispered. “Help….me……”

The stars were silent. Redthorn waited, he waited for them to come to him because they couldn’t be wrong. He needed something, _anything_, to show that they cared that their chosen was bleeding out, dying, killed by traitors.

But nothing came. There was only silence and a dark heaviness that seemed to crush the earth below.

Well...fine! He’d...he’d do this himself! He tried to pull himself forward - keep going, keep moving! He’d heal himself if he could, but his claws didn’t even catch on the grass. He tried to take another breath in, but he couldn’t. He was too weak to even suck in oxygen.

Still, he continued to fight. He fought against his body until, with a finality, darkness embraced his consciousness and all thought and feeling drifted into nothing.


	22. Chapter 22

Five cats sat in a circle, staring into a dark puddle. They were silent, the last of the light disappearing from the water between them. A somberness shadowed over their gathering and one of them shook with the force of her sobs.

There was a sigh and the smallest of the five stood. “It’s over. We should leave.”

There wasn’t any movement, however, as they all continued to stare off into the darkness.

One of them spoke, her voice shaking with disbelief, eyes haunted. “I...I never thought it would get this far. I didn’t know...how _bad_ it was…”

The one who had spoken first scoffed. “You saw the madness as clear as I did. You saw the way he betrayed his clan...how he killed _me?_ How could you have not seen this coming?”

“Shut up, Adderstar,” one of the she-cats hissed. “Redthorn was a great warrior. Let us mourn the cat he could have been.”

Adderstar curled his lip, but fell silent. Around the edges of their circle, curious eyes appeared in the darkness. The moon hung overhead, but the darkness of Redthorn’s end, apparently, had cast this corner into shadow. Adderstar’s eyes drifted to the cats appearing outside of their group, recognizing and connecting each spirit to the cats that had died.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but the she-cat that had hissed at him cut him off. “That took a lot out of us. We’ve never interfered so heavily in the affairs of the living before. Was it worth it in the end? Losing a spirit to this power?”

The sobbing she-cat’s cries only grew louder.

“Yes,” said the she-cat, still shocked but quickly recovering. “If we hadn’t stopped Redthorn from killing Specklestar, or even Snaketail...I don’t know what would have happened to Windclan. Even though we may mourn his potential as a warriors, we can’t forget that he has been beyond redemption for a very long time.”

“Well spoken, Ivystar,” said one of the cats beyond the circle.

“Quailshade…” the fifth cat spoke in his rumbling voice. “Are you going to be okay?”

The cats eyes turned to the sobbing queen as she desperately tried to catch her voice. “I...I don’t….” she sniffled. “Yes. I’ll be fine. It’s just...Crimsonstripe. Gave up his soul to give us this opportunity to change fate. To change the fate of my brother, to condemn him to death. I’ll never….I’ll never see him again. And I’ll never see Redthorn again either. He’ll be damned to the Dark Forest forever.”

“If it means that much to you…” the tom started, gently, tail twining with hers, “then you can go see him. The border with Starclan and the Dark Forest is thick but we can still speak to each other across the line.”

Quailshade shook her head. “I...that’s not what I mean, Berrytail. I’ll never see Redthorn again because he doesn’t exist anymore. A monster has taken over my brother. And there’s no return.”

The cats cast their eyes down, all but Adderstar, whose harsh gaze looked away indifferently. “There was always a monster there. You were all just blind to it.”

“Give it a rest, Adderstar,” the she-cat snarled, rising to her feet. “You’re just going to make it worse! And, besides, I didn’t see you doing anything particularly helpful to the clan - you just made things worse!”

Adderstar’s eyes flashed. “I did what I thought would be best for Windclan, Icefeather. You wouldn’t know - you were too busy sucking up to a murderer.”

Icefeather’s lip curled. “At least I didn’t get kicked out of my own clan!”

Adderstar’s hackles raised. “How dare you!”

The tension between the two nearly snapped, claws were suddenly unsheather and Ivystar looked up with alarm.

_ **"ENOUGH."** _

There was a blinding flash of light and, suddenly, between the Starclan cats, a glowing figure appeared. A body that seemed to be nothing but void, the vague silhouette of a cat standing before them, eyes of glowing white, regarding each of them with a gaze without expression, yet still powerful. Ancient.

The quarelling cats were frozen to the spot, silent, wide-eyed with shock.

“It is done,” the ancient Starclan cat spoke in a whispered voice. “The evil in the clans has been destroyed. It does not matter what you thought of this cat when he was a true, loyal Windclan warrior. It does not matter how or why he became a murderer, only that he did and if he had gone on to rule Windclan...there would only have been disaster.”

Its glowing eyes turned towards a spot in their circle - an empty spot between Quailshade and Icefeather. “The warrior, Crimsonstripe, gave up his soul to give you Starclan cats the energy to change the present. To interfere with the living. This has not happened in living - or dead - memory. But it was necessary to protect the clans. And with his sacrifice, the clans will be at peace once again.

A sweep of the cat’s paw against the water and it rippled, light returning to the water. The Starclan cats leaned forward to look within. It was the Windclan camp, in the aftermath of the battle. Specklestar, covered with herbs and cobwebs, was speaking with Applestar. The bodies of the rogues were being dragged out of camp and the dead in the clan being piled in the center. The wounded were being treated and the Thunderclan warriors were going home in friendship.

“We will invite Specklestar back to the Moonstone,” the ancient cat boomed. “And we shall at last give him the nine lives he deserves as a leader.”

The cats bowed their heads as the Starclan cat gave one last sweep of its gaze before, in a flash, it disappeared.

Silence fell over the gathering as the Starclan cats continued to watch the Windclan warriors slowly heal their wounds and recover from the brutal fight.

Quailshade still cried silently, tears dripping down her face, but she knew that it was all for the best.

“There is hope now,” Ivystar whispered. “Windclan will rebuild from this tragedy.”

“Specklestar will make a great leader,” was all Adderstar said.

“He may have been a great warrior once,” Icefeather put in, “but Redthorn turned to evil. It’s good that he’s gone.”

“We will mourn, but we must move on,” Berrytail added.

Quailshade hesitated before the smallest of smiles curled at the edges of her lips. “Everything will be okay.”


	23. Epilogue

_Darkness._

It was all that Redthorn saw when his eyes fluttered open. The world around him was like a void, so obscured in shadow that he couldn’t make out anything. For a moment he was confused. Was it still nighttime? Perhaps the moon had just gone behind a cloud. He was still on the hill, right? He could feel grass beneath his body.

His eyes began to adjust to this darkness, slowly, but surely. And he didn’t see the moors - no, he saw a forest. Oily, slick grass, dead, rotting trees, and browning leaves set against a sky without stars.

Redthorn stared forward, confused. Had he died? Was this...Starclan?

No, no, that wasn’t right. Starclan was a paradise. The world sparkled with color and life and the prey ran plentiful. The trees were tall and magnificent and there was a sense of peace and eternal tranquility, not this emptiness. Not this darkness.

He slowly picked himself to his feet, realizing that all the pain of his wounds were gone. He looked back at himself, at the scars, both old and new, that riddled his pelt. Wait...were those not supposed to be healed?

He started forward, then, nose twitching, trying to find the scent of someone else that could help him, maybe tell him where they are. But the scent of cat was old and stale and no matter how many times he tried to follow their trails, he never got closer.

At some point, suspicion began to tick at his head. A suspicion that this wasn’t Starclan, that he was dead and...somewhere _else._ The place where all those that Starclan sought to punish were sent, to spend their afterlife wandering alone with the weight of their guilt.

But...wait, that couldn’t be right! He didn’t deserve to go to the Dark Forest! Starclan had sent him a sign - they’d chosen him! Everything he’d done he’d done for the good of the clan! He’d suffered so much and killed so many in pursuit of that sign! Were they punishing him because he’d failed? Had they set him up for that failure right from the beginning?!

Redthorn’s paws stopped moving. He was frozen to the spot as the realization crashed across him. _This is the Dark Forest._

“NO!” He screeched into the darkness and sprinted forward, heart racing, desperate for something. He couldn’t be here, he didn’t belong here! Maybe if he kept running he’d be able to leave! The forest couldn’t go on forever! If he just...kept running and running and running and running

And then the mist began to rise and grow thick. He slowed himself down as he found himself in what almost seemed to be a world of just heavy fog.

At one point as he wondered about the mist, there was a horrible, horrible feeling in his chest. That if he took one more step forward, he would die. A sense of dread so unnatural that he was convinced it had come from somewhere else, but still, he stopped in his tracks and looked down.

Before him was almost like a glowing line, just barely visible. The mist shimmered in front of him and he squinted. Just beyond...he could just make out...trees? Living trees. Tall trees. Trees with leaves and healthy bark.

Starclan.

_So it’s true. I’m in the Dark Forest._

At first, he stared out at Starclan’s hunting grounds with nothing but longing and hurt but then the betrayal began to set in. It sunk in deep and pierced his heart, filling that void with familiar rage and hatred.

But it wasn’t just at Specklestar anymore. Nor Snaketail. No, it was at everyone. All the clans and especially Starclan.

“You promised me,” he yowled. “You sent me a sign! I thought that you were behind me, but you were lying! You lied to me! You betrayed me!” His voice grew to a shout, screaming across the line of the Dark Forest and Starclan, but nobody answered his call.

“EVERYTHING I DID I DID FOR YOU!!” he screamed desperately, but Starclan didn’t respond, merely twinkled teasingly across the border.

With a snarl, he turned his back on Starclan and marched back into the oily, dark woods.

They’d betrayed him. He’d always believed that Starclan was at his back, but they’d set him up, made him their scapegoat probably! Let him build up all that belief only to crash it down on his head and send him to the forest of the damned when nothing came of it.

They’d played with him and he would never forgive that.

They weren’t going to get away with this. He had more vengeance to fulfil now. They probably thought they were safe over there now that he was dead. But that wasn’t going to stop him. It didn’t matter anymore that he wasn’t leader of Windclan, nothing mattered. Nothing but this - he was going to make them pay.

The clans were sick - twisted. They’d seen his potential, they’d seen his power! And yet, they still turned against him, cast him out, killed him, and now they slept peacefully now that he was locked away. They would pay as well - all of them.

“I’ll destroy them,” he snarled. “And I won’t stop until Starclan is nothing but a nightmare.”

The forest darkened around him. Eyes blinked from the darkness.

Redthorn smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is the first long-term story project that I've ever finished, so it means a lot to me that you've read all the way to the end. I you liked it, feel free to shoot a comment, they give me life. I'll be posting some of my other warrior cat writings soon, so keep an eye out!


End file.
